


The Dark Path

by Hibashira



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-28
Updated: 2020-12-28
Packaged: 2021-03-10 22:33:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 16
Words: 52,045
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28384818
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hibashira/pseuds/Hibashira
Summary: The war is over, but Harry is not done. As everyone is searching for ways to cope, grieve and move on, Harry Potter has nothing but rage, hate and vengeance at heart. Hiding his true thoughts from his loved ones, he will follow down a darker and darker path... Violent and bloody. Not fluffy. Now COMPLETE
Relationships: Harry Potter/Ginny Weasley
Kudos: 7





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> A/N : This is my second fanfic I've ever written. I had this idea reading another fanfic about Ron's death, and I had to start writing right away. This is gonna be dark and bloody. Enjoy and feel free to give me any feedback!
> 
> Reminder : English ain't my mothertongue, and I'm my own beta, so excuse the mistakes =)

**Draco Malfoy**

**Lucius Malfoy**

**Narcissa Malfoy**

**Pansy Parkinson**

**Vincent Crabbe**

**Gregory Goyle - dead**

**Millicent Bulstrode**

**Alecto Carrow (Azkaban)**

**Amycus Carrow (Azkaban)**

**Augustus Rookwood – for Fred (Azkaban)**

**Antonin Dolohov – for Remus**

**Fenrir Greyback – For Bill**

**Thorfinn Rowle (Azkaban)**

**Peter Pettigrew - dead**

**Bellatrix Lestrange - dead**

After a careful thought, Harry slowly erased the name of Narcissa Malfoy. After all, she saved his life when Tom sent her to check on his "death".

The Carrows, Rookwood and most of the Death Eaters were now out if his reach, in Azkaban, but Dolohov, Lupin's murderer, was still on the loose. So was the werewolf, Greyback, but going after that animal would be even more dangerous, so he was looking at the bottom of the list now, a list that might expend anyway.

He had his eyes on the name of Bulstrode. She would the easiest one, perfect for a first, and she would probably lead him to Parkinson.

He would keep Malfoy's for later, has he had no idea how to get inside the Manor just yet, but yeah, he thought, he had plenty of practice the year before, he would figure something out.

As he rose from his desk, and hid the notebook in the secret compartment behind the shelf, he heard someone calling out from downstairs.

"Harry, hurry the hell up! We're gonna miss the train ! Again!"

With a smile at the joke, Harry looked back one more time to make sure the book was properly hidden, then closed the room behind him as he joined Ron and Hermione in the hallway of Grimmauld Place.

This was early September, but the air was already cold. Wrapped into his black coat, Harry could not let Ginny go, while Ron was teasing from afar. His lips against her hair, he hugged her even tighter, and she let him do, as she needed it as much as he did.

Going back to Hogwarts alone, once again, was harder on Ginny than she thought. The war was supposed to be over, but she could not help but remember how she felt the previous year, alone on the docks, wondering if her brother and Harry, the love of her young life, were still alive.

This time, Luna was already waiting for her on the train, along with some of her Quidditch mates, and her loved ones were here, on the docks, with her, waving goodbye. Well, all but one, as the absence of Fred next to George was always as visible as a black hole swallowing the sun.

The summer was tough, really tough, after the burial of their favorite prankster, and everyone else who fought and died during the Battle. Her mother's cries, George undying rage against everything, her father numbness, all of it made it the worst time of her life, by far, but there was also a bit of light in the darkness. Ron, for a start, did his utmost best to keep the head of out the waters, and took care of everything he could at home to ease their parents lives. Sometimes he would break down and cry too, but with the support of Hermione who never left his side once, he would always rise back up and try to keep it going with a smile, honoring his fallen brother. The couple's love was a bowl of fresh air in this suffocating house.

Then came Harry. In front of everyone, when the deadly silence over a Monday's dinner was choking her to death, he rose and spoke:

"Molly, Arthur, there is something I need to tell you." He paused, and looked at Ginny. " You know me by now, and I consider you as close to family as one can be. Therefore, I feel like I need to tell you the truth. I am terribly and irrevocably in love with Ginny. "

George choked on his soup and almost spat it out through his nose.

" I am not asking for your permission to marry her, nor anything like it, but I wanted you to know."

He sat back, and everyone looked at him in disbelief. It was not like him to speak publicly like that, he was more of the secretive type. Ginny was sure that they would have to hide their relationship until she was of age, if not until she was 30 years old, but no. He just gave it all away, and despite the terror she felt thinking of her mother's reaction, it was also a great relief.

After a few seconds, Ron burst out into laughter, and slapped him on his back. "Mate, that was hella ballsy ! A true Gryffindor alright!"

As George was laughing with him, for the first time since the death of his shadow, Molly looked back at her soup and whispered with a poorly-hidden grin: "We know Harry. We know".

"You're still sleeping in Ron's room" said Arthur. "And you better not try to sneak out of it at night!"

Now that she was leaving his arm to get on that bloody train, she felt like it was all gonna be okay this time. She did not need to worry about him, about Ron, about Hermione, about anything. She just had to be a student, for one last year…

As Harry watched the train leaving the station, his smile faded. His green eyes took a darker shade and his jaws clenched a bit. Now that Ginny was gone, there was work to be done.


	2. Kill them all

"Harry, are you sure you don't want to come with us?" asked Hermione, almost begging.

"I'm sure", he said with a smile. "Australia sounds way too hot for me, and you guys deserve some alone time. "

"But we don't know when we will be back" she insisted. "It might take months to find them, not to mention lifting the spell. God I have no idea how to do it…"

"Hermione, look at me. You're the cleverest, the brightest witch ever. You will figure this out, as you always do. Now if I were you, I'd be more worried about having to put up with Ron alone for so long."

"Hey!"

But it was enough to make Hermione smile and change the subject, accepting his decision.

"What are you going to do then? Search for a job?"

"A job? Hell no, not yet. I don't even have to work a day in my life, if I don't want to. After all, inheriting both the Potter and the Black fortune, I'm pretty sure I can put Malfoy's to shame now. No, for now, I will just… enjoy. For as long as I can remember, my life has been nothing but pain, blood, and your life-saving company. I've never even got to visit London, for Merlin's sake. So I intend to right this wrong. I'm going to eat like a freak, try every pub of the neighborhood, spent some time with Neville or Dean, maybe go and visit a bit of Scotland too! I also have a godson to watch over now, and I also promised George I would help him with the shop from time to time. So please, don't worry about me. I'm gonna be just fine!"

"What I don't understand" said Ron, trying to ignore the feeling of jealousy inside of him, "is why you'd rather stay at the dark and creepy place while you could stay at the Burrow. Mom and Dad would be happy to have you, you know it!"

"I know, mate, I know. But what would I do there, without you guys, without Ginny, even without George now living above his shop? No, it's better for me to leave them alone, they earned it after putting up with you lot for so long! Besides, that creepy dark place, as you call it, is the last thing Sirius left me, and I intend to honor his memory by turning it into the home it should have been for him."

Without anything to add, Ron put his hand on his friend's shoulder.

"Alright bro. But don't come crying when you're missing the hell out of us! No, what the hell am I saying! Please do come crying, cause I'm gonna miss you as hell too!"

The shoulder pat turned into a brotherly hug, followed by Hermione practically jumping onto them, mumbling things about taking care of himself, not forgetting to eat, and stuff like that.

Hours later, as Ron and Hermione were lining up at the International Floo Department at the Ministry, she said to him with concerns in her voice: "I'm really worried about Harry. We should not leave him alone…"

"What do you mean? Dude's fine, you saw him like me."

"Ron, something feels wrong. This is Harry. Master Brooder n°1! We lost so many people, we lost Remus, Creevey, not to mention… your brother… The Harry I know would be beating himself up to death, rambling about how this is all his fault! Ginny is back at school, the rest of our friends are either with her back at Hogwarts or scattered left and right searching for jobs or on trips abroad. And yet he's all smiles, talking about visiting London or Scotland?"

Ron seemed to be thinking about it for a second. "Maybe you're right. But what can we do? We can't cancel our trip now and we have to find your parents. Maybe he just needs to be alone for a bit. We'll write to him every week and if things are indeed wrong, maybe I'll come back early, or ask Neville to keep an eye on him. We'll see."

"Yeah…"

Sitting in the kitchen of his new home, Harry was standing blankly into the void. He could remember the discussions, the yells and the laughs, of this summer before 5th year, where he discovered the existence of the Order. It was like he still could see Sirius sitting right next to him, talking to him as he was James. Harry clenched his fists, and lowered his head, trying to control the wave of rage growing inside him.

He needed to act, to do something, but he had no idea where to start. It was usually Hermione coming up with a plan, or a list the leads that would lead to one, but right now, he felt so lost. He needed to breathe, take his time, and think this through. His friends had been gone for barely two hours, there was no rush. He went upstairs, and took the book out of his secret stash. Start at the beginning. The bottom of the ladder.

"No", he thought. "This is still too fast. Start by preparing yourself. Get set up."

He looked around, and gazed upon the white, virgin wall, thinking about the family tree painted on the walls of the other room, the one Sirius never managed to get rid of. He smiled.

"Kreacher!" he yelled.

With a *pop*, the house elves appeared, looking older than ever, if it was even possible.

"Master Potter?"

"By any chance, would you know how Sirius and the Marauders made this map invisible?" he asked while getting the Marauder's map out of his trunk.

Kreacher looked at the blank file, suspicious. He took it inside his hairy hands, turned it, looked at it closely. Harry, getting impatient, put his wand against it and whispered the password, making the ink slowly appear.

"Oh, I see" declared the elf. "Mistress Walburga loved to use this spell. So did Master Regulus. This a variation of the Disillusionment Charm. Simple spell, but quite unbreakable with the appropriate password."

"Do you know the spell?"

Kreacher nodded. Now, Harry was getting somewhere. He grinned. Nobody ever asked anything about magic to house elves because, well, why would these "inferior creatures" know anything about it? Turned out, they knew a lot.

He took his wand out, at started waving it carefully across the wall. Slowly, black-red letters appeared on the wall and forming names.

The Malfoys took their place, side by side, at the top center of the wall. Parkinson and Bulstrode at the bottom. The other ones got dispatched left and right. Finally, he drafted a thin line from Bulstrode to Parkinson, then from Draco to his father.

"Now, show me the spell."

Kreacher told him both parts of the incantation, and the master put it in motion.

"I solemnly swear that I will kill them all" he thought. " _Revillumantis!"_

Nothing happened.

"Murder accomplished" he thought again _. "Disillumantis!"_

And the wall turned back to white, unstained and pure.

"So, Millicent's father is working as Undersecretary for Shacklebolt", he recapped for himself, reading the small lines he added on the wall under the Bulstrode's name. "Moderate, ex-Ravenclaw, nothing to tie him to the Death Eaters. I guess that's why Millicient was not worried after the battle. Her mother, however, is ancient blood. Slytherin, comes of money, and probably sympathetic to Tom's idea. Millicent hasn't been seen nor declared dead after the battle. Kreacher!"

"Yes, Master?"

"Any news on the surveillance?"

"Nothing yet, Master. Lady Bulstrode keeps going out once a day for usual business, but no sign of the daughter."

"Damit!"

Harry was starting to despair. It's been two weeks since he started working on her case. He came and went as he pleased at the Ministry, using every excuse to talk to Kinglsey, Arthur or Percy. It was hard to investigate without raising the suspicions, but he managed to gather these few information. Finding their address was the easy part, and with the help of Kreacher, he had kept it under surveillance for a week. But no sign of Millicent just yet.

"Where the hell is that bitch?!" he yelled, smashing his glass against the floor.

Without a word, Kreacher picked up the shattered glass and made the whisky stain disappear with a snap. Harry hated that anyway. He wanted to try it, as he saw Arthur or Sirius do before, but it tasted like gasoline.

"So what know?" he thought. "Should I keep going, or switch target for the moment?" But could he give up so easily? No he could not. No way. Maybe try a different tactic? Maybe smoke her out by burning the house down? Lure her out with something, like a fake letter maybe?

As he was scratching his head listing the possibilities, a shriek outside the window dragged him out of his thoughts. Ginny's white barn-owl, Alexander, was begging for a way in. Since Errol passed away before the War, Harry had bought her this little wonder just before she went back to school. She loved it so much that she didn't even try to decline the gift.

It was the second letter in that many weeks that Ginny wrote to him.

_"Dear Harry,_

_I love you._

_I think this was the first and most important thing to say. All the rest is mere details without any importance. I love you.  
That being said, this week was HORRIBLE! As Quidditch Captain, I have to prepare for the tryouts, plan the whole season for the team, while teachers are drowning us under homework. "N.E.W.T", they say. Important, they say. Like we did not save their asses four months ago…_

_Anyway…."_

The letter went on for lines about school life, and it made him smile. He read the " _I love you, again_ " at the end of the letter three times, still having a hard time to believe his luck. She was sweet, trying to make him feel as if he were still there too, making her best so he could be a part of her life, even from a distance.

He sat down and thought, looking at the names on the wall, that maybe all this was not worth it. He had Ginny. Ron and Hermione. A whole new life ahead of him. So why bother?

" For Sirius" said a voice in his mind. His own voice. "For Fred. For Tonks. For Remus. For Teddy without parents, George without brother. For Justice. To make sure it never happens again".

"I know!" he yelled, jumping back to his feet. "Kreacher!"

"Yes, Master?"

"Do you remember Mundungus Fletcher? The low-life rat who stole Regulus's locket. The one you dragged to this very place last year for us."

"Kreacher remembers, Master."

"I need you to do it again. Find him, and bring him to me."

The elf looked surprised for a second, but bowed without a question and disappeared.

Harry was reading Hermione's letter. It's been almost a month, and this was the first one she wrote, although it looked like it took over a week for the message to arrive. He didn't mind, he knew they would be busy.

He had barely wrote two words on his reply that Kreacher popped in with a loud "bang", holding Fletcher by the ear.

"Bloody fucking hell! You again?! Tell this monster to let me go, for heaven's sake!" he screamed.

With a nod to his servant, Harry complied, but the elf did not stay far from Mundungus, ready to jump back in if he tried anything shady.

"What do you want this time, Potter?!" he asked, dusting off his ripped clothes. "I already told you everything I knew about the damn locket!"

"Sit down, Fletcher".

Something in Harry's voice was dark. Rough, rasping. Fletcher swallowed hard and obeyed without a word. He sat at the table, across from his host, and waited.

"I want a full batch of Polyjuice" he said. "I don't know how to brew it on my own, but I'm sure you know exactly where to get some."

"What the hell, kid, are you mental? Polyjuice isn't even illegal, you get just get some at the Apothecarium of Slughorn! You don't need me for that!"

Harry hit the table with his fist.

"Shut the fuck up! Shut the fuck up, and listen, or I swear to you I will make you eat your own feet! Slughorn's quantity are limited, and its sale is controlled. I would have to sign a register and nobody can know that I bought some. Do you understand me?

"Yes". Fletcher looked terrified.

"So, I need you to get me enough Polyjuice to last a bloody year, under the radar and off the book. Can you do that?

"Yes I can, sure, no problem. But what's in it for me?"

"100 Galleons."

Fletcher's eyes opened wide as he jumped from his chair.

"Hell! I'm your man! Give me a week and I'll get you some top-notch quality juice! I'll get right on it!"

"Fletcher?"

"Yes Boss?"

"Not a word to anyone. Or Kreacher will hunt you down, again, and this time it will be the last."

The thief tried a parody of military salute, and disappeared.

Harry used his time well. While Fletcher was on his mission and Kreacher was studying Lady Bulstrode habits, Harry planned the rest of his hunt.

One week later, Harry had a crate full of Polyjuice, and Fletcher a bag full of gold.

Now, he had everything he needed: the Potion, a plan, and the whereabouts of Millicent's mother.

It was time for blood.


	3. Almost too easy

Harry had been waiting for two hours, sitting at the table of the nearest café, his second coffee getting cold. Mrs Bulstrode usually got out at 10.30am on Tuesdays, but he came early, just in case. But it was now almost 11.30pm, and she still was not out. Maybe Kreacher made a mistake, or maybe he was just terribly unlucky? He had nothing else to do anyway, and maybe he would get a glimpse of his target.

Twelve minutes later, a dark hair figured got out of the house, face half-hidden by a dark green scarf, a sober yet sinister hat on the head, a small black purse in her hands. She was almost has fat as her daughter, but something in her gave the impression of dignity, self-confidence. Something Millicent truly lacked.

According to Kreacher, she would be coming his way, and indeed she did. Harry left a few coins on the table, and got up, following her a dozen steps behind.

She should keep going for 200m, then turn left, then second on right, if the information was correct. Creatures of habit make easy preys, he thought, and right when she turned right into an empty street, Harry took his chance. He rushed forward, and before she could realize what was happening, he grabbed her by the back of the neck, and apparated away.

Mrs Marcila Bulstrode felt the familiar sensation of being sucked away, but she had no idea who grabbed her or where she was going.

* * *

She landed hard on a wooden floor, in a dark room, and her first thought was to apparated back to somewhere else, escape right away. But before she could even move a finger, she found a wand right under her nose, and a rasping voice growled in her ear.

"Do not move. Do not blink. Do not even think about the word Apparition."

She took a good look at her kidnapper, thinking it would probably be some low-life fucker in rags, going after her family money, hoping maybe for a ransom. But she opened her eyes wide when she recognized a teen barely of age, with an unmistakable mark on the forehead.

"Potter" she whispered. "Harry Potter".

"Petrificus Totalus!" he whispered.

Without a chance to even to fight back, she found herself unable to move. She could not even ask what was going on. At first she felt anger, the outrage. Who dared picking up on her like that? But now she was starting to be worried. If Harry Potter, Savior of the Wizarding World, Champion of the Light, Heir of Dumbledore, was having her locked in a room with no windows, she thought something was off. However, at no point she thought that he was going to hurt her, nor did she have any idea about what was actually going to happen to her… If Potter had her, no matter how despicable this Muggle Lover was to her, she was not worried for herself.

"Listen, Miss Bulstrode", he said calmly. "I'm sorry we had to do it this way, but I had to be sure that you would not run and listen to me. Millicent is in danger. Someone's after her. I need to know: is she at home?"

So this was the reason. There was a threat on her daughter, and Potter, as his usual self, wanted to save the world. She nodded, or at least tried to considering her condition, but he seemed to understand.

"Alright" he smiled, presenting her a quill and a parchment that he put on a table, lighting up the small candle on it. "So here's what I need you to do. You're going to write a letter to your husband, saying you're leaving him, and that you're taking Millicent with you. Say you go to the USA or something, I don't care. But make it believable."

He waved his hand a bit, and she could finally move her head.

"What the hell are you talking about?" she finally said, anger in her voice. "Leaving my husband? What threat? What the hell is going on?!"

"Listen Madam" he answered calmly, trying to be reassuring. "I'm working with the Aurors, and the Ministry discovered a very credible threat onto your family. It seems that a group of people are seeing the fall of the Dark Lord as an opportunity to take control of the Ministry, and considering your husband position, taking you hostage and using you as leverage seems a good way to pressure him into doing their bidding. You are being watched, this is why I had to take you so suddenly, to make sure nobody saw you disappear with me. Now, I need you to write this letter for your family's protection as well as your own. Then I will take you to a safe house where two Auros are waiting for you, and bring your daughter right away. Your husband needs to think you're gone, at least until we catch everyone behind the scheme. It's the only way not to raise their suspicions!"

Mrs Bulstrode was suspicious herself, but the suddenness of this whole story, the seriousness of the young Potter, and the fact that she indeed felt watched the past weeks, it was all too much for her. She might not like Potter at all, but it made sense that he was already among the ranks of the Aurors, and she respected the Ministry, thinking they knew what they were doing. She also had to protect Millicent at all costs, that's why she had been keeping her inside for the time being, after this whole "Battle of Hogwarts" thing. She nodded and said: "Okay I'll do it."

He raised his wand again, and she was finally able to move. He gave her a hand, helping her up, and apologized again for the abruptness of his manners, saying he had no other choice.

She took the quill, and started writing. She tried to include a sort of a code, a way to let her husband know that she was ok, but she came up with nothing and had to let it go, accepting the idea of having to trust the Aurors.

She signed the damn thing, folded the letter and put the quill back. She turned to the young Auror and said:

"It's don…"

She did not see the blade coming. She barely felt it as it slid between her ribs to reach her heart. The shock took over her in an instant as well as the cold. So cold. She watched Potter in the eyes, searching for an explanation, but she could not understand. What was happening? The pain now reached her brain, and tears came to her eyes. What was going on?

"Thank you for your help, Miss Bulstrode. Now you can rest."

* * *

As she fell on the floor without a word, she thought with horror that she just helped this maniac to hurt her daughter. The scream of hate and despair died in a throat as she passed away.

Harry took a deep breath. That was his first kill. Or at least, his first murder, if you count Quirrlel's and Voldemort's death. He felt oddly calm. A quick " ** _tergeo_** ", and the blood disappeared from the floor and the wound, leaving Mrs Bulstrode with no trace left but horror on her traits and fear in her dead eyes. He did not even bother to close them, as he plucked a hair of her head and put it in a vial of Polyjuice Potion.

The liquid turned dark green, with a smell similar to leather. Without a single look to his victim, he drank it in one sip, and took her appearance. With a *pof*, he apparated back right in front of the Bulstrode's house.

"Millicent! Millicent!" he screamed with his now female voice. He tried his best to look panicked, rushed. "Millicent, come here quickly!"

"Mother? Is that you? What's going on?" squeaked a voice upstairs. "What did I do, again?"

"For heaven's sake, get down here right now ! We need to go!"

Millicent appeared at the top of the stairs. She looked even bigger than the last time Harry saw her, probably because of months of being locked inside with nothing more to do that lie down and eat. Her hair were messy, like she just got out of bed, and she had a tabloid in her hands.

"Put this away and hurry up, did you not hear me?!"

"What's going on Mother?" She know looked panicked.

"Your father is in danger! We need to go! Right now! " screamed Harry, while throwing the letter written by the real Marcila on the living room's table.

"Right now? But! I have nothing packed ! I need to pack my clothes, and feed the cats, and.."

"We don't have time for that! The elf will do it!" He rushed to the stairs and took her hand. "Here, drink this. Don't ask, just do as I say, for once!"

This should have tipped Millicent of, as she always did what her mother said, but she was now too panicked to even think about it. The potion looked like mud and smelt like garbage, but she closed her eyes and drank it with a grimace.

After a few seconds, she was now looking like Mundungus Fletcher!

"Grab one of your father's coat, and let's go. Let's go!"

Harry was keeping her under pressure so she would not take time to ask questions he would not have the answers to, or start being suspicious.

"Now where is this damn house elf?" he yelled. It was a bet, but he was 100% sure that a pure-blood family would have one. Next second, a young female elf, dressed with an old shower towel, appeared next to him.

"Yes Mistress?"

"Pack our bags! Clothes, the bare necessities! Something i can carry with me, not the whole house! I'll be back after lunch to come and get it!".

"As you wish Mistress." And she disappeared.

Before minutes, Harry/Marcila and Millicent/Mundungus were out and running through the streets. Harry had no idea where he was going, but it did not matter, he just needed to get away from the house. Millicent was begging, with Fletcher's voice.

"What is going on, Mother! Where are we going? Why am I looking like a human trash? Why did you make me drink Polyjuice? Please mother! Answer me!"

She was crying, trying her best to keep up with "her mother". Harry did not answer, dragging her by the hand even harder.

After ten minutes, in finally stopped at a corner, and looked around.

"Alright, nobody. Perfect. Take my hand."

She obeyed, and was being sucked into oblivion, like her mother an hour before, back to Grimmauld Place.

* * *

When she woke up, she was back to her own skin. She did not remember much, only that her panicked mother dragged her into an alley, transported them, and then she got hit heavily in the jaw by something heavy. After that, darkness. She figured she might have been knocked out.

As she regained consciousness, she felt several things: pain from her lips, confirming she'd been hit in the face. Fright, as she had no idea where she was and why. Worry, as her mother was nowhere to be seen.

And then, panic, as she realized she was tied up to a chair, her hand behind her back, unable to move.

And finally despair and horror, when she saw, by the light of the only candle, the body of her mother lying down, her eyes wide open.

She screamed. She cried. She begged and called out for her mother to wake up. She screamed again. She twisted her arms harder to try and get out of her ties.

"It's no use" said Harry, opening the door, carrying a glass of water. "The perks of magic. I thought you might be a bit thirsty after the Polyjuice".

Unable to open her mouth, paralyzed by terror more than the ropes, she just nodded. He came forward and help her drink. A few drops fell onto her thighs, watering her chin. He put the glass on the table and sat on its edge, waiting.

"Potter… Is… is it really my mother?" she asked first, to his surprise. He thought she would ask what was going on, or beg, but not this.

"I'm afraid so." There, she started to cry. Silently, this time.

"Why?" she finally asked between two sobs. "What was all that for?"

"You mean the Polyjuice thing? Well, I needed to get you out of the house without raising suspicion, and without leaving any magical trace. I mean, if we apparated straight from your house to this place, it would be way too easy for Aurors to pick up the trail, wouldn't it? This way, the only thing people might have witnessed is your mother running out of the house with a weird dude."

He leaned forward, closing in on her.

"Now, if you were asking about why you're here and why is your mother lying on the floor, it's an entirely different thing. But long story short, I had the undying feeling that it was absolutely unacceptable for good people like Fred Weasley or Remus Lupin to be 6 feet under, leaving families and loved ones in pain, kids without parents, while you fucking Death Eaters were running free. So you see, it's all a matter of balance. Getting the scales of the Universe even, if you get what I mean."

"I… I'm not a Death Eat…"

"Sshh" he cut. " I saw you at the Battle. I saw you using the Cruciatus Curse on a Ravenclaw girl and trying to kill Hermione Granger. Now, Millicent, I have a question to ask you. Where can I find Pansy Parkinson?

She was staring to her mother's body, crying even more. He slapped her.

"Hey! Milli! Focus! Where can I find her? Pansy Parkinson? Nobody's seen her since the Battle. I think she escaped, and I think you know where she's hiding. So now, the only easy way out for you is to tell me where the fuck she is."

The tears stopped flowing, but she started to shake, tremble, drowning in fear. As a strong scent reached her nose, she realized she just pissed herself out of fear.

"Where is Pansy Parkinson?" Harry asked again, his voice descending to the depth its range.

"I… I don't. I don't know… I don't…"

In a swift and single move, Harry grabbed the kitchen knife laying on the table, hidden from his captive's view, and slammed it into her leg, right above the knee.

It took her a second to realize what just happened, and she screamed her lungs out, to the greatest displeasure of Harry, whom ears were way too close to her mouth at this point. Blood was pouring out of her wound, its rusty smell filled the room like the scent of fresh bread when the oven's door opens. Harry almost expected a sound, like waters flooding out of sewers after heavy rains, but he heard nothing but Millicent's screams.

She was looking at it like if a giant spider was crawling onto her skin. She fought, tried to untie herself once again to escape the pain all in vain.

"You see" said Harry without any malice in his voice "you don't have to use to Cruciatus Curse to make people talk. To make them suffer. The good old muggles technics work just fine, not that you would know, as your pure-blood family would stay away from anything muggle related, wouldn't you? For example, maybe I could heat this blade until it's red, and stick it into your mouth?"

If she could look even more terrified, she would. She screamed harder, higher. He wanted to punch her in the mouth just so she would stop, but he needed her to be able to speak.

He cut her again, on the cheek this time. Not deep, but she was not made of a wood tough enough to endure such things. The drop of blood running down her skin to her double chin felt like burning poison, and she spilled out everything she knew.

"I don't know I swear! I was not close enough to her! But Daphne does ! Daphne Greengrass! She was not at the battle, she left with a younger sister, Astoria. But she was Pansy's best friend! We exchanged a few letters this summer, and once she said that she had to "help Pansy". I'm sure she knows! But I don't ! Please! Please don't hurt me anymore!"

She broke down in tears again.

"Okay, I believe you Millicent. Thank you. You see, I think that people like you, bullies, pure-blood vultures preying on the ones different from you, should all be taught the fear and the pain that you like to inflict on others. But I also believe that people can make mistakes, especially young ones like you and I, and that forgiveness and guidance can help them back to the right path.

"Really?" she asked, smiling weakly through the pain, hopeful that, maybe, Harry Potter was not totally the monster she just discovered but still had this righteousness people were praising him for.

"I do, really. However…"

He grabbed her hair with his left hand, firmly, and in a single sweep, he slit her throat. The skin provided as much resistance as a paper sheet under the blade, and as Harry felt the the jugular vein opening up, it felt almost too easy. As blood was pouring out like water out of an underground river, and life leaving her eyes, he finished:

"…You tried to kill Hermione. That is not something I am ready to forgive and forget."

* * *

Back in the skin of Marcila Bulstrode with a second dose of Polyjuice, Harry went back to their manor, shortly after 2pm. The elf was standing in the living room, with two bags ready.

"The bags are ready, Mistress" she said. "Where are we going?"

"You are not going anywhere." The servant looked ready to burst in tears. "I need you to stay here and take good care of my husband. Nobody can know where we are going, but we will be back soon. I left him a letter on the table. Do not read it, but make sure he gets it. And please, take care of my daughter's cats. She would be so sad if anything happens to them. Make sure they're fed and taken care of. "

Drying her tears with her dirty hand, she nodded.

"Yes Mistress. I will see to it and make sure that Master and Mistress's pets have everything they need. I will be here when you return."

* * *

Harry was back at the entrance of The Cave. He apparated as close as he could from memory, and had to walk all the way to the lake, dragging the bodies behind him. Considering the weight of both his victims, it should have been impossible, but nothing is really impossible with magic.

He had not been there since he and Dumbledore came to find and destroy the Horcrux, a few hours before he got killed by Snape. The entrance was still opened, dry traces of the old man's blood still staining the stone.

" ** _Incendio_** " he summoned, aiming the flames at the bodies on the banks of the cursed lake. The smell of burnt flesh took over the scent of rotting still water, and the mix almost made him throw up. Toughening up, he watched the body turning to crisps.

" **Wingardium Leviosa** ". He thought of Hermione with a smile. It was impossible to use this spell without hearing her lecturing Ron about its pronunciation.

He moved the burnt corpses over the water, and let them fall with a splash.

Nobody would find them, among the Dark Lord's Inferis…


	4. Letters

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: A short chapter before the bigger one to date. Enjoy

" _Dear Harry,_

_I have to admit, it is getting harder and harder to stick to letters. There are so many things I would like to tell you, discuss with you, share with you, and at the same time, I have no idea what to write._

_I mean, boring school life is fun for two minutes, but there's gotta be more to it than just those mundanities. More to us._

_The thing is, love, I also feel that you don't really talk to me either. I mean, sure you answer to my letters, but not once you told me what you're actually doing with your days. I feel so far from you.  
I knew long-distance relationships were hard, but damn this is …_

_I'm sorry. I didn't know where is was going when I started this. In two weeks we're going to Hogsmeade. Maybe you could join us over there? Even for just a few hours, it would feel so good to see you. To hold you._

_I'm sorry if I scared you. But I'd be vexed if I didn't, in a way, haha._

_I love you so much. It feels so good just to be able to write this down. If little girl-me saw me right now, telling my love to Harry Potter, she'd be having a heart attack! I still can't believe my luck, some days. Maybe that's why it's so hard to be so far away from you, you know. Karma, or something like that…_

_Please, tell me about your days. Your little boring life, so I don't get jealous, thinking about you lying on a perfect beach with mermaids, or flying across the USA without me while I'm stuck here._

_Tell me if you'll be able to make it at Hogsmeade too! Luna would love to see you as well._

_All my love._

_Ginny."_

* * *

" _Harry,_

_It's been two months since we got here, and I know we did not write much… I'm sorry, but things are crazy here._

_My parent's trace was actually not that hard to find at first, with the help of the Australian's Ministry of Magic. They came in and opened up a dentist shop, just the same as they used to own in England, without even remembering it. Life's funny that way._

_So barely two days after I sent my first letter, we found their new place in Brisbane. I admit it that I could not even get through the door at first. I tried three times before Ron opened it for me…_

_They were not here. Their assistant told me that they were on vacation, the first one they took since they opened the office, and that I could take an appointment with their replacement if I needed…_

_I felt weird, you see? Leaving on vacation barely one year after opening your own office? But I left them with enough muggle money to last a decade… Thanks magic. Anyway, we asked her where they were… She did not want to say, she got suspicious, asking who we were… Ron made up a lie about us being children of long friends of them from back when they were in the UK, it was brilliant. They were in New Zealand, but should be back within half a week. So we decided to wait and visit the city waiting for them._

_But a week later, still nothing, and Laura, this assistant grew quite worried… Long story short, we decided to follow the lead to Auckland._

_I swear, Harry, we could write a book about our "search and rescue" mission on the island! We arrived at the wrong place, we got lost, we found their tracks and lost them again…_

_But I will not keep you waiting any longer. We found them! My dad broke his leg rather badly on their last trail, so they were in the hospital, that's why they could come back to Australia right away._

_We're back in Brisbane now, but I still haven't made contact. I don't know how to do it. We are in discussion with the Ministry and their Healers, discussing the best way to lift the spell. The usual way to undo something like that is long, very long… Years long. Maybe it would be best to do it right away, like ripping off a bandage… But some Healers are scared it would shatter the minds… I'm scared, Harry._

_So by now you probably should have guessed that we will now come back any time soon… But at least, I found them. There's still work to do, but it's the last step._

_I miss you. Ron misses you.  
Please, write us. Tell us about you, about your life over there, about Ginny._

_We love you._

_Hermione, Ron"_

* * *

_"_ _Ginny my dear,_

_I know I don't tell much when I write. To be honest, I don't feel like there's much to tell. Or maybe too much, but all insignificant? But I will try, for you._

_I sleep a lot. Like, more than ever before. I could not really explain why, but there's not a day I wake up before ten._

Expect the day he murdered the Bulstrode ladies.

_I found myself quite fond of cooking, actually! Every day I spend a lot of time trying new things, new recipes._

This was not a lie. Most of the time he did not spent planning and working on his mission, he was actually spending it in the kitchen.

_For example, yesterday I tried to cook some roasted pork with a honey-mustard sauce. It could have been divine if I did not overcooked it. But it was still very good, something to keep in mind for sure. It's funny that I'm getting actually quite good at it, and that I like it, when we both know I suck hard at potion-brewing! Do you think Snape would be proud? Or disgusted maybe. Yeah, disgusted for sure._

_I also spend quite some time looking for, well, my future? I did some research about the becoming an Auror, as I wanted to a few years ago… But to be honest, I'm not sure that's what I want, now… I looked at some Quidditch teams as well, maybe a pro career could fit me?  
Or I could become a chef? Who knows?_

That was not technically a lie… But his researches were limited to looking at the job offers and Quidditch contracts pilling up in the mailbox.

_With Tom dead, I find myself with a serious lack of purpose in life… I never really thought about it before, but it seems that my whole life was about him… But now that he's gone… I don't know. I guess I should consider myself lucky to be able to explore all these possibilities in front of me?_

_All I know for sure is that I want you in it. (Damn I feel so cheesy I should go and take a shower, haha)._

_Anyway, as you see, I'm doing tons of little things, but nothing really important…_

That was a major lie.

_Of course I'll join you at Hogsmeade! Maybe by then, I'll have learn how to bake a cake!_

_I love you._

_Harry._

_Ps: You did not scare me. Well, only a bit. Not more than the Hagrid's giant pet spider, but more than his giant three-headed dog."_

* * *

_"_ _Dear Hermione,_

_I'm so glad that you found them, despite the leg thing! Maybe you could indeed write a book about it when you're back! I'm sure it would be a best seller. You spend so much time your nose buried into books, maybe it would be only justice that you end up writing some too!_

_I'm fine. I miss you guys…_

That was a little lie. He was far too busy and far too scared of what they would think if they ever found out the truth.

_…_ _But I will keep on waiting. I know how important this is to you. If there's anything I can do to help, from here, just let me know! Take your time. But not too much._

_I don't really know what to say to you… I sleep a lot. Like, more than ever before. I could not really explain why, but there's not a day I wake up before ten. I started cooking, actually! I try a lot of new things, new recipes. For example, yesterday I tried to cook some roasted pork with a honey-mustard sauce. I overcooked it, of course, but it was still very good, something to keep in mind for sure. It's funny that I'm getting actually quite good at it (or at least, I think I do), when we both know much I sucked at brewing potions. My personal revenge on Snape, maybe._

_I did some research about the becoming an Auror, as I wanted to a few years ago… But to be honest, I'm not sure that's what I want, now… I looked at some Quidditch teams as well, as I received a few offers to play as a Seeker…  
Or I could become a chef? Or something else? I'm still trying to figure this out…_

_Ginny is fine! Or at least, I think she is, I haven't seen her since King's Cross, but I will in a couple of week (Hogsmeade time!). I'll tell her you say hello._

_Please, tell Ron I found a perfect pub right at the corner. He'll love it!_

_All the best._

_Harry."_

* * *

_"_ _Dear Hermione,_

_I hope you are doing well, and that my jackass brother is not too much of a pain in the arse._

_I hope you found your parents and that everything is going for the best. I know I should be asking for news, and how everything is going… I'm sorry to bother you in such dire times, I know you probably are very very busy in Australia, but I'm worried about Harry. I can't really explain why, but I feel like something's off. Maybe I'm overreacting and making up stories due to the long distance. Maybe next week, when we'll meet at Hogsmeade, everything will be perfectly fine. But nobody knows him and gets to him like you, so I don't know, I thought maybe you could see it too, or help me…_

_I don't really know how to explain it. We write every week, but in each of his letters, I feel like something is missing. Like there is a huge hole, covered by some kind of veil made of little things… He told me about how he started learning how to cook, or how he was exploring different kind of options for his future… But none of it sounds like Harry. I just sounds like a façade, a fake… or like the smile he would put up to hide the pain, maybe? I know. Maybe I'm just imagining things, again… Maybe I'm so used to seeing him struggling, fighting, in pain, that I don't recognize him when he's at peace?_

_I need your lights, big sister._

_Tell my big brother is still owes me three Galleons._

_Love,_

_Ginny"_


	5. Hogsmeade, love and blood.

It was now mid-November. Two months and a half since school started again, since Ron and Hermione left for the Southern Hemisphere. Ginny was getting ready for the first trip to Hogsmeade of this final year. More specifically, it would also be her first real date with Harry, and boy she was looking forward to it.

Truth is, Ginny was never much of the girly cliché, being into boys, dates, and pretty dresses. You don't really get to be that kind of girl growing up with that many big brothers. But after the last year, a year of pain and resistance against the Carrows, a year of indescribable fear of not knowing where Ron, Harry and Hermione were, a year of war and losses, being just a regular girl on a date sounded like heaven. Like the life she fought for and finally deserved.

She didn't really know who to ask for help for her makeup, it's not like she was use to wear some. A younger girl in the Gryffindor dorm, a fifth year called Johanna, took a make-up case worthy of a professional from under her bed and offered to save her.

"What do you want?" she asked". "Something worthy of a gala at the Ministry? Something that says "please kiss me"? Or something a bit more formal?"

"I don't know…" Ginny felt lost in a world that wasn't hers. "Something a bit natural maybe? I don't want to spook him, I still want him to think I'm me… You see what I mean?"

"Of course. Don't move, I got it!"

She did a wonderful job, Ginny thought. The red lipstick was discreet enough, and the mascara made her eyes looked a bit brighter. In a word, she loved it, and she was glad enough to recognize herself in the mirror.

She made the trip to Hogsmeade with Luna. The two of them were inseparable, even while not being in the same House. When Luna went missing the previous year, she still had Hannah and Neville to keep her afloat, but she missed the Ravenclaw more than she'd had thought. But now that the elder member of the D-A were gone, Luna was pretty much the only real friend she had left, or at least the only one who really knew what she went through.

Despite her friend's usual good mood, Ginny was stressed, almost scared. It's been ten weeks since the last time she saw Harry, and his letters always felt strange to her. Maybe he changed his mind about her? Maybe he was here to break up with her, because this long-distance thing was too hard to handle? Maybe he found someone else during his days alone? The more she thought about it, the harder her heart was beating and the weaker her knees were getting.

"You know" said the blond one with her usual calming voice "Harry loves you very much. I could always see that. He looks at you the way my mother used to look at my father. I would not worry much, if I were you."

With a nod and a smile, Ginny thanked her, took a deep breath, and pushed the door of the Hog's Head Inn.

* * *

"Ginny! Luna!" yelled someone.

The pub was already quite crowded, even though it was only 1pm and the Hogwarts students had just arrived.

"Neville! What the hell are you doing here! Hannah?!"

Ginny run to her former housemate and jumped in his arms, then kissed the Hannah on the cheeks. It was so good to see them.

"Yeah, I told them about your day-off, thought that maybe you would like to see them as well…"

The voice behind her felt deeper than usual, but she recognized it instantly. She turned around faster than a wind vane.

Harry was wearing a long, luxurious dark coat above a deep-red shirt with Gryffindor's "G" embroidered in golden, above his heart. His jeans looked brand new, and his hair a bit longer, but she could tell he tried to tame it a little bit. He was growing some early facial hairs, and despite his early age, she could tell that he would have a nice beard if he decided to let it grow. He also looked a bit more muscular, but maybe that was the coat… He was handsome.

"Damn Ginny" he said with a grin. "I always thought you were gorgeous, but this is a whole new level! You are… Whoah!"

She blushed.

"Shut up, big idiot. Kiss me hello at least!"

And so he did. She heard Neville and some of her Gryffindor friends cheering and whistling, but she paid attention to nothing but Harry's lips. They felt a bit rough, but sweet, and he tasted liked a good flavoured beer. She was going to break it off to breathe at last when he surprised her with the tip of his tongue, sneaking between her lips, before stepping back.

"Just a tease", said his smile.

"I love you", he said for real. "Come on, join us! We already started, I hope you don't mind."

He turned back to Luna to greet her properly, and made room for them to their table. She looked at him while sitting, not knowing what to think, what to feel. Why did he invite them? Did he want to avoid being alone with her? Or was it a purely genuine thought? On one hand she felt so happy to see Neville and Hannah again, on the other hand she felt the bitter taste of disappointment, her hope of a romantic date now dead in the water. She felt the guilt of such selfish thoughts, as her friends were here just to have good time with her.

"What's with the sad face?" asked Seamus, arriving with a tap on her shoulder.

The whole gang was here. Damn, the Inn was about to get super packed…

* * *

"Here, Ginny, this is for you", said Harry, handing her a thin gift wrap with a golden ribbon.

She looked at him with wide eyes. Where was this coming from? It took her a few second to regain her spirits and be able to take the gift from his hands, trying hard to prevent her owns from shaking. She tore the paper without a word, and unfold it in front of everyone.

"Harry…" she whispered.

It was "only" a shirt, but an undeniably beautiful one. The deep dark color of the fabric was decorated with blood-red interlacing threads at the cuffs and the colar. A bright golden "G" on the heart side was enlightening the whole cloth. It looked a bit male-ish but it was without a doubt custom made for a woman, and designed to match Harry's own shirt.

"What do you think?" he asked, all smile.

"I.. Harry… I don't… I can't accept it…"

Harry's smile faded, and his eyes darkened.

" I'm sorry ? " he asked with a poorly hidden anger. "What do you mean ? "

Ginny saw right away that she made a mistake and vexed her boyfriend. He just gave her a wonderful present, out of the blue, combined with the gift of bringing her friends with him, and she almost spat on his face.

"I'm mean... It's too much. And I don't have anything for you... "

" Damit Ginny, don't be such a prude ! " jumped in Seamus with his heavy accent she liked so much. «"The man just outdid himself, go and try this out! Or I can try it for you, if you're scared that the git put some nasty spell on it ! But i'm not sure that I would fit in, i might stretch it a bit ! "

Everyone, including Harry, laughed and tease back, to the relief of the young Weasley. She took back her new shirt and headed for the toilets without a word.

The cloth fit perfectly. It was slightly tight at the chest, maybe made her look a bit more sexy than what she was used too, but she liked it. The red of her hair matched perfectly with the patterns of the shirt, she looked stunning, and for once, she thought that much as well. She tried to take of one more button, but the cleavage was now was too enticing for her own taste. She would keep the idea for some alone time with Harry.

When she finally stepped out, she was welcomes by cheers and whistles.

"Damn, Ginny you look hot!" teased Seamus. "Who knew a male shirt was all you needed?"

"This suits you very well" smiled Hannah.

"Try not to stain it with Butterbeer!" laughed Neville, handing her a pint.

Harry was still sitting back in his chair, without a word, but a bright smile on his face. She was relieved…

* * *

Time was flying fast, and soon the kids at the Inn, hoping to get a glimpse of the Hogwarts Heroes, had to leave and got replaced by workers finishing their day-shifts, and so the pub was still packed to its full capacity.

Last year student were allowed by Headmistress McGonagall to stay later and come back to the castle with the last train. It was not very like her to be so permissive, but the old woman knew that spending time with their friends and brothers in arms was more than helpful to help these young warriors to cope with their losses and trauma, and to start moving on.

The laughs were more quiet now, discussions more serious. The D.A members had left their spot at the table for some tired working men, and were now standing at the bar. Seamus and Neville were talking about possible careers, while Luna was discussing some weird creature she swore she saw during the holidays with Hannah.

"'Harry" whispered Ginny in Harry's ear "I'm sorry about earlier. About the gift. I love it, I do really really love it. I don't know how you manage to get the size so perfectly."

"Well, I'm glad to see that I still have some hidden skills!" he laughed. "No, more seriously, I got a little help, from your mother. Sorry for breaking the magic. You really like it? For real?"

"Yes Harry, I do really. I'm just… well, I felt a bit embarrassed of not having anything for you in return, that's all. You offered me Alexander, and now this… not to mention the unbelievable luck of having you as a boyfriend, of loving me. I don't feel like I deserve this, you know? And I don't see how I can ever repay this. I mean…"

"Don't, Ginny." He smile was still here, but tainted with sadness. "Look, if I'm really honest, I don't really know what I'm doing. You might be younger, but you have more experience with relationships than me, from what I know. I don't know, I just… I thought the only way to prove my love to you was doing this. Gifts… I don't know, now that I'm saying this out loud it seems so stupid, I just don't really know how to do this, Gin… I love you, from the bottom of my heart, but I don't feel like a can express it enough. I need to find a way to get this out of my soul to be sure that you know it. To make sure that you won't leave me."

She was about to cry, feeling both so lucky and so scared that she would not be able to live up to such a love.

"You don't have to do all this know?" she finally managed to say. " Just you showing up here means more to me than you'd think. You don't have to drown me in gifts to prove your love, I trust you enough to take your word on that."

She chuckled a bit, and it kissed her, lightly, slowly, lovingly.

"I'll be right back" he whispered, heading for the loo.

"Oh come on!" she yelled. But she was laughing. In a way, there was no world where Harry Potter could be romantic for more than a minute.

* * *

When Harry came out, the first thing he heard was the voice of Neville, cold and angry.

"Leave her alone! I'm not asking twice!"

"What? You think I can't be a good company for her?"

Harry rushed back and found a tall black-haired man, his arm around Luna's shoulders. She looked very uncomfortable, and freed herself in a twist.

"What's going on?" asked Harry.

"This loser is dumb enough not to know when his attention is unwanted!"

"I just thought she was very pretty and I wanted to… Oooh ! But my! Isn't that Baby Potter? The golden Hero of Hogwarts!"

Harry looked at him, detailing him from feet to hair. 22 or 23 years old, three-days beard, black of hair and blue of eyes, big teeth escaping his mouth from the front, he reminded him of someone, but he could not tell who. He was already drunk for sure, but was still standing steady, and his blue eyes looked very much lucid.

"What?" asked the stranger, opening his arms. "You don't recognize your good old opponent? They use to call me Captain Flint, back then!"

"Marcus Flint…" whispered the Gryffindor. "Yeah I remember you, now. What the hell are you doing here?"

"I work here at Hogsmeade, at Spintwitches Sporting Needs!"

"And you made a habit of bothering young girls not even out of school?"

Flint's smile turned into a nasty grin. He took a step forward chin high.

"I don't know, I just saw her looking at me like she wanted me, so I thought, maybe I had a shot. I couldn't tell that the little blond sweetie was not even of age. Speaking of that, how's that other girlfriend of yours, the muggleborn. Granger, was it?"

Harry rushed forward, but Neville hold his arm in his way to stop him.

"Let it go, Harry, he's not worth it."

"Get the fuck out of here, Flint," growled Harry without a look at his mate. "Or I swear to you that I'll make you."

The whole room was now silent, looking at them, holding their breath, mixed with excitation and embarrassment. Especially Flint's mates, wondering why their buddy was stupid enough to pick up a fight with such a legend. But Marcus was not over, the alcohol rushing through his veins making him forget all sense of danger.

"What, Potter? You think because you got lucky against the Dark Lord that you can do everything you want, like you're the goddamn Minister of Magic himself? Be careful, some of your friends here could get hurt only so you could throw a punch at me. Tell me again, how many of them died so you can be a "hero"?"

This time, Neville's arm was not enough to stop him. He launched forward like a missile, and even if Marcus Flint was expecting a blow, he did not manage to dodge the flying fist that hit him in the stomach. He bent forward, trying to catch a breath, when Harry grabbed him by the hair and smack his face against the counter.

Once.

Twice. One of his big teeth broke.

Three times. "Harry, stop!" he heard someone yell in his ears.

Four… Someone grabbed him by the shoulders before his could finish the hit, forcing him to let go. Knocked out, mouth in blood, Flint fell on the floor, and Harry did his best to land a final kick in his guts while the whole crowd was now trying to get him away from his victim.

He caught his breath and looked around. Everyone was now glaring at him in shock. Ginny, hands before her mouth, was staring at him like he was a monster out of a book. Without a second thought, he grabbed his coat and stormed out. He did not even hear Ginny rushing after him.

* * *

"Harry! Harry please stop! By Merlin, Harry, STOP!"

The cries in her voice reached his heart, and he finally stopped walking like he had the devil on his trail, but he still could not speak a word.

"Harry" she asked when she finally reached him, grabbing him by the cuffs of his coat, "what was that? What did you go all berserk on him?"

"You heard him Ginny!" he yelled. "You heard how this bastard talked about Hermione! And Luna! How he disrespected all of us, and the ones we lost! How he spat on Remus, and Sirius, and Tonks! And your brother!"

Ginny raised both her hands to his cheeks and looked at him straight in the eyes.

"I know, Harry. The guy's a jerk and he probably deserved to be taught a lesson, but not like that, love. You almost killed him down there!

"I know! I know… I'm sorry Gin, I'm sorry that I ruined the evening, I…"

"Harry! Look at me! It's okay. I'm fine. You don't have to be on your guard like that all the time. You don't have to save the world anymore. The war is over."

"BUT I DON'T WANT IT TO BE OVER"! he snapped, stepping back from her hands. "IT CAN'T BE OVER!"

Ginny, eyes opened in shock, stared at him in disbelief.

"Harry…"

"It can't be over!" he repeated. "It can't! Because if it is, it means that all this anger, all this hate I have inside, all this rage that I hear screaming in my ears, none of it have any purpose! I'm not fine, Gin! I spent all my life since I discovered magic jumping from one death threat to another! I feel more scared now that I ever felt during last year, because back then I feared Voldemort, but he was still far, in a way, plotting in his corner and I was keeping myself busy. But now, now I'm scared of myself, and I'm always with me! I'm feeling good, sleeping well, and then suddenly, I feel myself drowning in rage and anger, coming from who knows where! I can't handle the slightest frustration without wanting to burn the whole world down, and I'm constantly scared of what I might do if I lose control! I mean, I don't feel like I'm still at war, I feel like I still should be! That I don't belong here, laughing and drinking with you and Neville and the others, but to the battlefield!"

A voice in Ginny's mind screamed to run for her life, run away and never see that man again, but instead she moved toward him. She showed no fear, nothing but resolve.

"Harry, listen to me. It's okay. It's alright to feel like this after what you've been through. You're not the only one. I feel this way too."

"Really?"

"At least something similar. I can't walk the castle's hallways without looking behind me every ten steps. I can't hold my wand and practice a spell at school without wondering if it could be used to hurt someone. I keep wondering why we keep Slytherins in the castle, when I know that they're just innocents, at least most of them. It's hard Harry. I keep seeing Bellatrix Lestrange dying before my eyes, or the body of Fred."

"I... I didn't know."

"Of course you didn't!" She was started to get angry. Upset. "You never bothered to ask me! You never asked what we went through while you were on your crusade against the Dark Lord! What his Death Eaters did to us! The pains we went through! The blood we shed!"

"I know I didn't ask! It just because... Look, as long as I don't actually know what they did to you, I can't picture it, in my mind. If I did, I would just go insane. I can barely stand the thought of you suffering because of them. Seeing it, imagining it, would just end me..."

"I understand." Her voice calmed down, her traits softened. "When I think about what they put you through, and Hermione, and Luna... When I think back at Hagrid holding you dead in his arms, I wanna punch through every walls just to get the anger out... But that's behind us now, Harry. This may be part of us, but it's not who we are."

Harry looked at her with a smile to hide is disappointment. For a second he thought that maybe, maybe she would understand, and share his vision of justice. But he knew that Ginny was too sweet, to righteous for that. She was so much stronger than him in this way. But the talk at least helped him to get his bloodlust in check. For now.

"You're right" he whispered. " and I'm sorry for snapping at you. I know I should give myself some time, it's just…"

"…easier said than done. I know. But it's alright."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N : I'm actually very proud of this chapter. i hope you will like it!


	6. Greengrass

Daphne Greengrass was a very, very pretty young woman. Just eighteen, her long blond hair was descending all the way to her thighs, her blue eyes were truly and deeply mesmerizing, her red-painted lips made by the gods for the sole purpose of haunting young men's dreams.  
But that day, with the worries painted on her traits, her sunglasses, her make-up poorly applied in haste, her hair hidden a large black hat, she looked like another person. But then again, that was the intended point. Standing outside a café, she was looking around in search of something, or someone. After a few second, a young man at the terrace slightly raised his hand, so she could spot him. When she saw him, she froze and hesitated a few seconds. She finally drew a long breath, straightened her back, and went to sit at his table.  
"Good morning, Miss Greengrass. Did you sleep well?"  
"Cut the crap, Flint! What do you want?"  
Harry Potter, impersonating Marcus Flint, looked at her with a smile and leaned back.

* * *

On the previous afternoon, two days after meeting Ginny at Hogwarts, Harry made his way to her house, looking like Marcus Flint. When he crashed his head at the bar, everybody was way to focused on the fight to notice that he used the occasion to tear some of his hair. It was swift, it was lucky, but it was very much intentional.  
Pumped with Polyjuice, he hid himself under his Invisibility Cloak. It was, after all, the absolute and most perfect tool for a thief. Or an assassin… He stayed outside the house 5pm to 7.30pm, when Sir Greengrass came back from work. It was hard to wait this much, and he even had to drink a sip of potion once more, but he managed to time it perfectly so he would come in at the same time as the old man, still invisible. Then, he looked for Daphne's bedroom, careful not to make any noise while the family was gathering in the living room before eating, and when he finally found it, he searched her place for jewels. Rings, Necklaces, anything he could use as a "memory". It was not hard to find, and when he finally did, he grabbed a lovely golden necklace with three green stones. He then sat patiently in a corner, relying on his father's cloak to keep him well hidden.

When Daphne finally came in, around 11pm, he was almost asleep against the wall. She started to undress, and while she sure was attracting enough, Harry closed his eyes. Deep down, he knew that stalking like a creep just for the some naked flesh was not worthy of him, and besides, he really wanted Ginny to be the only woman he'd see with no clothes on. When he dared opened them back, she was dressed in her white nightgown, and sitting in front of her mirror, brushing her impressively long hair. He swore silently, how long was she going to brush those? He started to turn back to his own skin, and took another sip of Polyjuice, using all his force of will to kill the shivers of pain running through his body, so he would not betray his presence.

By midnight, she was finally in bed, but he had to wait for the whole house to fall silent, and for her to be asleep . He knew that a hunter had to be patient, but as a Gryffindor, it was never his strong suit. But he was getting better at it. After all, his plans required lots of thinking, planning, forecasting, so he quickly learned to use all these mandatory waiting times to prepare in his mind.. When her breath became slow and steady, he got up and stretched his legs. He had been here for so many hours, drank so much of Polyjuice that his flask was almost empty. He listened around, making sure no one was awake in the house, and hearing the father's snores even through the walls, he proceed forward, reassured. He opened the door to prepare his way out, and went back to the bed.

Standing above Daphne, he took a deep breath, aimed carefully in the dark, and then pressed his hand hard against her mouth. She woke up instantly, but took two a three seconds to realize that she was in danger. When she finally tried to move and fight back, unable to scream and barely able to breathe, she was stopped in her tracks by Harry's wand under her throat.

"Don't move" he said with the Slytherin's voice. "Don't scream, don't fight back, just relax and listen. I'm not here to hurt you, but I need you to hear me out."  
Looking through the darkness, Daphne finally recognize her attacker. She'd seen him while she was a lot younger, at Hogwarts, sharing the same Common Room. Vaguely reassured by this familiar face, she stopped moving, and nodded silently. Marcus Flint, however, did not take his hand of her mouth. She had troubles breathing, but she managed.  
"You see this?" he said showing her a little necklace she immediately recognized, "this is the proof that I can get to you, unseen, whenever and wherever I want, so no funny business."

The fear came rushing back through her veins like a tidal wave.  
"Now hear me carefully", he said. "Tomorrow, at , you will meet me at the café right next to Gringotts, and you will tell me everything you know about Pansy Parkinson. If you don't, I will come back and hunt you down. If you try anything against me, if you tell anyone that you saw me, I do have a few friends at Hogsmeade ready to take care of your little sister next time she shows up."

Daphne's eyes opened wide in terror. She had no idea what was going on, but the very thought of the freak hurting her little sister turned her stomach upside down.  
"I'm giving you a few hours to think about it. Astoria, or Mrs Parkinson. Your choice. Don't screw this up. "  
And just like that, he vanished. Not as if he apparated away, he just ceased to exist. Overwhelmed by panic and confused, she did not hear the sounds of Harry's footsteps, rushing downstairs, hidden under his cloak, her necklace in her hands.

* * *

At exactly, she saw Marcus Flint sitting at the table, like it was nothing. As if he did not scare the living hell out of her the previous night.  
"Good morning, Miss Greengrass. Did you sleep well?"  
"Cut the crap, Flint! What do you want?"  
He leaned back, and instead of answering her question, he offered her to seat with a gesture.  
"You made the right choice." he finally said. "I hope you did not mention last night's... dreams to anyone."  
"I did not. Not yet at least. So stop playing games, and tell me what the fuck you want, you sick bastard".

A few heads turned towards them, as Marcus Flint's smile disappeared. He leaned forward, his elbows against the table.  
"Watch your tone, Miss. Trust me, you do not want to attract attention. That would be very bad for little Astoria's health. Now, about what I want, it's rather simple. I want you to tell me where Mrs Parkinson is hiding. Simple as that."  
Crossing her arms against her chest, her anger overcoming her fear, she looked at him with an icy stare.  
"Why?" she asked.  
"Because she stole something from me before going into hiding. Something very, very valuable, that I need to recover at all cost. Do you hear me, Miss Greengrass? All cost."  
"And what makes you think that I know where she is? She hasn't been seen since the Dark Lord passed away."  
"And I know you helped her disappear. Her father was among the dead Death Eaters they found after the Battle. Her mother was long dead as well, and I'm pretty sure no one amongst her cousins would take that little bitch under their wings."  
Daphne lowered her head. She didn't know how he knew, but he was hundred percent right. Almost nobody knew that, when they were escorted out of Hogwarts before the Dark Lord's attack, she was one of the few to go back and fight by his side. She was terrified of him, but, Daphne thought, she would rather be on his sides when he would win the battle. It's only after the word got out that Sir Parkinson was also a Death Eater that she understood. She went back for her father. After his death, she found herself alone, and on the wrong side of the story, so she turned towards one of the only person in the world she used to trust, at least as much as she was able to : her "gang-sister" from Slytherin. It might have been her only choice, but it was going to be a really bad one, in the end.

"Yes", admitted Daphne after a few seconds, "she did asked me to help her. It was a few weeks after the Battle, when the dust had settled and people were starting to ask for answers. But she just asked me for some money, I swear!"  
"Did you give her any?"  
"Yes I did. I mean, what was I supposed to do? She's my friend. I could not just give up on her."  
"I figure." said Flint with a smile. "This is why I'm pretty sure that you're lying to me. You're a good person, and as you just said, she's your friend. What kind of a friend would you be if you would just give her up to the first stranger coming in with a threat? Now, I understand, believe me, and I respect that. I really do. Loyalty is not the most common trait amongst us Slytherins. However, intelligence is supposed to be, this is why I really need you to realize that I am not kidding here. I was really hoping that my little demonstration of last night was enough to convince you. But if I need to take this a level higher and, let's say, involve your little Astoria, I, will, not, hesitate."

Daphne's already pale skin turned to white, almost transparent, and her right hand started shaking, no matter how hard her left hand was trying to prevent that. Harry noticed the cracks in her armor quite easily, and forced his way in.  
"Since the old Headmaster passed away, since the war and half of the walls broke down, Hogwarts is not the safe place it used to be. And as I said, even though I do have the means and the contacts to reach her at school, I don't even need to. I can just wait for her to come to Hogsmeade. Or even easier, just wait for her to come back home, sneak into her room like I did last night, and slit her throat. You see? It would not be harder than sealing your necklace."  
She tried to keep a straight face as much as possible, but she could not prevent the tears from gathering at the corners of her eyes. She never felt such fear, even when she had to escort her sister out of the school before the Dark Lord's attack. She looked into the blue eyes of the treat and saw nothing but ice.  
"You have one minute" he finally said.

Daphne thought as quick as she could, but came up with nothing. Maybe he was bluffing, after all Hogwarts was still one of the safest place in Great Britain, but a little voice in her head kept telling her that he was not kidding. The clear image of Astoria, blood pouring out of her opened throat, was making her way into her mind every two seconds.

"Okay. Okay." She breathed deep and addressed an mental apology to Pansy Parkinson. "Her mother's family used to own a small cabin near a lake in northern Scotland. Loch Badanloch is the name, a few miles from a place called Achentoul. Or Achnfoul? I don't know, something like that. She thought it was safe enough, at least until she found someplace else to go, but she needed me to provide some provisions and some basic stuff. She could not go back to Gringotts to get her money, and she was afraid someone would pick up her trail if she went shopping herself."

Marcus Flint nodded, understanding the trail of thoughts. It made sense, it was smart, it was cautious. By a small gesture of his hand, he invited her to keep talking, but she was pretty much done.  
"And that's the last time I saw her. I brought her a few old clothes of mine, and enough food for a month, maybe a month and a half, but that's all. I figured she might have moved to some other place, because she never contacted me again, and neither did I. Maybe she's still there, maybe she's not, but that's all I know, I swear!"  
Marcus Flint got up, and buttoned his coat. It was, after all, mid-december, and the air was freezing.  
"Thank you, Miss Greengrass. I believe you, but I don't need to tell you what would happen to you and your sister if it turned out that trusting your word was a mistake."

Without another word, and without giving her the possibility to answer, he left her to pay for his drink, and disappeared in the Christmas shopping crowd.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N : Hey guys ! Sorry it took this long to combe back, new home and new job can take a bit of time. This is a short chapter, i Don't know yet if the next one will be longer or not, but this Harry going into full Hunter's mode and his prey doesn't even know what's coming...


	7. Parkinson

Harry looked at the cabin and grinned. The lights were lit, he could see it through the little windows, as well as the smoke out of the chimney.

At first, he really feared that Pansy Parkinson would have switched her hiding spot for some place he would never be able to find. When he arrived at this place called Achtenfoul, he was stunned by what he found, which was quite a whole lot of nothing. It was not even a village, just two or three farms on the sides of one single road. His first thought was to search for a place where she would come and go to get food and other necessities, but there was not a single shop in sight. Maybe she was fishing and hunting ? He could not imagine the precious little Slytherin lowering herself to that kind of level, but survival was always more important that such considerations.

Flying over the land on his broom, Harry did a whole sweep of recon, until he found an hotel on the edge of a very, very small road. He landed a few hundreds meters away our of safety, and walked his way to the building. To his surprise, it was not abandoned, far from it. The pale yellow paint on the outside walls looked recent enough, and the muggle car parked outside was brand new. Taking a deep breath, Harry went in.

* * *

"Hoy, kiddo! Watcha doing here? Never seen ya before, amIrit?"

It took the young wizard a few second to catch what the man behind the desk was saying. The accent was not really scottish, it was something different that he could not really recognize.

"Right you are, Sir" he answered with his most charming smile. "It's my first time so far up north in the country."

"Aye! Perfect dan! Come! Come taka seat woul ya! You need a room ar something? Did not hear no car outside! Whare dya come from?"

The man did not looked that old, barely in the end of his forties, but his lips seemed to have been torn by the northern wind, and his skin tanned by the arctic sun. His hands were clean, but damaged and shaking a bit. This did not look like the hands of a wizard, but those of an honest hard working muggle. After a quick look, Harry decided not to let this last too long.

"Actually no. I'm just searching for a young girl. My age, dark hair, coming from you seen her around ? I have been told that she sometimes stayed in this region."

"Oh ya must talk abat Miss Parkinson, aren't ya? Af course I've seen her ! She cames here every two days to get food and supplies far her and her father!"

Harry froze for a second. Her father was supposed to be dead. His body was found in the grass outside the castle.

"Her father? Is here too? Have you seen him?"

"Af course nat! Ya know he's very sick, rit? The good lass takes care of him. Said the northern air would help him get better. She's rit, ya know? Nothing like the pure air af Scotland to revive a man!"

"Oh!" said Harry, taking a disappointed look on his face. "I hoped that he was feeling good enough to come here by himself."

"Nat yet, sadly! Good man ya know? Sir Parkinson. Used to came here a lot back dan, when da lass was just a kiddo and his wife still alive. Haven't seen em in years, until she showed up four months ago."

"Spending the holidays at the cabin, i guess."

"Rit indeed! My father owned da hotel back dan. Now it's me, and I'm very glad to have em around again! I thought they'd be back in town by now, but na, still here! "

He suddenly looked suspicious.

"But ya didn't tell me. What dya want with em? Ya aint no looking for trouble, are ya?"

Harry raised his hand with a smile. "Not a all", he said. "Actually, I came to deliver a good news ! It took a long time, but Mr Parkinson has been approved for the new trials ! He's not out of the woods yet, but the new treatment will give him a better chance against the sickness!"

" Arent ya a little young to be a doctor, kiddo?"

"Well I look younger for sure. And I'm no doctor just yet, just an intern. That's why I'm the guy they send to the end of the world to go and fetch him! Not that I complain, the trip was nice and the place is beautiful! "

"Sure is, kiddo. Sure is."

"Now, would you happen to know where is Mrs Parkinson's cabin? The sooner i get to them, the sooner he will be in London to be treated"

"Alrit. Look, if ya follow the road, in two hundred meters ya'll have a path on yar left... I haven't been there for a while now, but if I recall, after five minutes, ya turn right..."

His instructions were hesitant; but clear enough. Harry would find her before dusk.

* * *

Now that he could see the smoke out of the chimney, he felt a bolt of joy and satisfaction in his blood. Sun was slowly setting, but sheltered from its light by the trees, he was hiding in the darkness and shivering from the winter's cold. He's main worry was about the possibility of Pansy not being alone. He could have use the spell Hermione showed him at Grimmauld Place, but he did not want to leave any magical trace. The Memory Charm he used on the hotel owner was already too much, but he had to.

Now, after watching from a safe distance for an hour, and seeing her silhouette only once through the window, he was pretty sure that she was alone. It was time to take his shot.

Silently, he made his move to the door of the wooden cabin. From up close, it looked really cosy, clean and warm. Pansy Parkinson probably worked her magic to make it feel like a home, and the closest to her standard as possible.

Hidden under the cloak, Harry knocked on the door. Hard, and three times, to make sure she would not think it was a trick of her mind. He heard her move inside the cabin, and braced himself.

"Mr Brock?" she said, opening the door by a few centimeters. Harry could barely see her eye. Of course, no Mr Brock to answer her, so, logically and to Harry's disappointment, she closed it back. Refraining his groan of frustration, he knocked again. This time, she came out to have a look at the surroundings, and therefore opening the perfect path inside for invisible Harry.

When she came back in, she looked shaken up, worried. She closed the door tied, and used a spell to make sure nobody would force it. Too bad the threat was already inside. She sat in the old leather chair, next to the fire, and stared at the flames, providing Harry a good look a her face.

She looked tired, exhausted even, and thinner than he remember. Her hair were longer, dark as the night, but still clean and taken care of. So were her fingernails, leading him to think that she was still caring of her appearance, even with nobody to see her. Her clothes were clean, elegant and warm. All made him think that she was not used to live as an outcast yet.

She took a parchment of a pile sitting on the table, and started to write by the light of the fire. Harry grabbed the only pan he could see in the kitchen, and while she could not see him in her back, he approached silently, and hit hard on the back of her head.

When she woke up, Pansy's head was hurting like a bitch. She could feel the dry blood on the back of her neck. She tried to massage her scalp, but she couldn't. She realized that she was tied up tight to her chair, back to the fire, and facing a blur figure in the dark. She shook her head, trying to get her senses back and her vision to stabilize. When the shapes around her stopped dancing, she finally got a good look at her attacker, and recognized the scar in half a second.

"Potter." she whispered. "What's going on?"

He sat down on the table, his hands on his knees.

"Pansy. Nice to see you again. It's been a while, I reckon. Almost 6 months now, isn't it?"

"What the fuck is happening? Untie me, by Merlin's name!"

"Oh right ! You must have missed giving orders, staying here all alone. I understand why you would jump onto the occasion. But sadly, those orders will not be obeyed. As a matter of fact, I strongly advise you not to try that again."

"Untie me you lunicatic ! Right now!"

She saw Harry moving her way, and she had a glimpse of hope that he would, indeed, untie her. She barely noticed the slight movement of his right hand, and went right into shock when his fist collided with her cheek and threw her onto the ground. Face on the floor, it took two seconds to feel the pain and understand what actually happened. Then came the taste of the blood in her mouth, and the horror when she realized the weird thing she needed to spit was one of the tooth. As tears came up her eyes, firm hands caught her by the collar and dragged her back up.

"Alright, let's try this again" said Potter. "I want you to tell me everything you know about the Death Eaters. Malfoy. Crabbe, Goyle, Dolohov. Meeting places. Gold stashes. Hideouts."

But Parkinson spat blood on his shoes, and put on a narky smile.

"You fucking psycho. I don't know anything about them, about any of this. You're wasting your time, Potter!"

But Harry expected that much, and so he drew out of his coat the very same knife he used on Milicent Bulstrode. Despite being prepared for that answer, he started to feel the anger rising. He spent so much time waiting, waiting and waiting again, just to get a hold on her. He wasn't feeling like taking kindly any shape of resistance. Seeing her smile, teeth spoiled red, and the spark of madness in her eyes, Harry felt the wave of hate rising in his heart. He knew he needed to be careful, not to let her trick him into making a mistake, but he really wanted to smack her face into the ground and destroy that pretty face of hers.

"Look, Pansy. You're not the first Slytherin I interrogate. Milicent talked after a few seconds, and Daphne did not even try to put up a fight. That's right, Daphne Greengrass. Your so-called best friend sold you out and I didn't even need to draw the knife. Now, I'm guessing you will try to do a better job, but trust me, it will not be worth it. So I'm asking once again, where would a Death Eater on the run like Dolohov hide. Who would help him ?"

But Parkinson was still processing the new of her friend betraying her. Only the slap on her already bruised cheek brought her back to reality.

"Go to fucking hell, Potter!"

The knife into her thigh surprised her. She did not think that Harry Potter would carry through his threat. But he did, and the pain was unimaginable. She yelled, and started crying. Then, the cries turned into a psychotic, nervous laugh.

"You're fucking mad, Potter ! What do you think ? That I was the Dark Lord's confident? Or that I was in charge of the whole logistic? I don't know shit ! "

She tried to fight back when she saw Harry reaching for her foot and taking her shoe of, but the tied ankle gave her no room for that. She felt the horror overtaking her as he took her sock then, but before she could fear any kind of sexual perversion, she felt the blade against her little toe.

"Please don't..." she started. But her sentence turned into a powerful scream of pain, as Potter slashed it off. Blood poured out in an impressive amount, and she felt that she was going to faint. She wanted to, she prayed the gods to let her fall into darkness, but the pain would not let her. She scream so much that her throat was starting to hurt, of course not enough to forget the pain for her feet and her thigh.

"Pansy, Pansy, listen to me. I don't mind killing you, even if you don't give me an answer. I will find an other way. But if you can make my life easier, I can spare you all this trouble. Now for the last BLOODY TIME ! TELL ME WHERE TO FIND DOLOHOV AND THE OTHER DEATH EATERS!"

His yell was powerful. Primitive, full of anger and determination.

"I don't fucking know!" she screamed, still looking at her missing toe lying on the floor. "I was never part of the whole thing ! My father was ! I just joined them to find him, make sure nothing happened to him!"

"And instead you tried to kill other student in the name of Voldemort!"

"I did not! Bloody fucking hell Potter! I did not even draw my wand that night ! I wanted to give you over, sure! But I did not cast any fucking spell ! I was just searching for my father ! I did not kill, did not hurt anybody!"

But when Harry sighed with disappointment, she added: " But I wished that I did! You fucking suckers disgust me ! The dark Lord should have killed you all that night ! All these mudbloods, traitors and vermines are soiling our school, our land ! My father was right, you are all fucking despicable! And you! You fucking Harry Potter ! I always knew you were not the hero everybody was talking about! You're just another rat ! A fucking psycho! They will catch you for what you did to me ! You will rot in Azkaban, where you belong!"

Harry, remembering his good manners, let her talk and finish her piece. Once she was finished and started choking on her swallowed tears and blood, he smiled and got closer. He grabbed her jaw with his left hand and pressed hard to force her to open her mouth. Then, in a single sweep, he pierced both her cheeks with the blade, from one side to the other. Her eyes opened wide, tears stopped flowing under the shock, and when he took the knife out of her mouth, she almost drowned in her own blood. The pain was so terrible that it almost made her numb, on the edge of consciousness.

"Alright", he said. "That's enough. I am tired, Pansy, it took me lots of efforts to find you here. Now, I believe you that you don't know anything, you were convincing. However, you always were a big pain in the ass, a bully, and a danger to everyone. I don't know if you actually fought or not during the battle, but I will not take any chances here."

"Screw you!"

That was her last word, as he plunged the knife into her heart.

He then took Daphne's necklace out of his pocket, and left it on the ground, along the two last hairs of Marcus Flint. Without a single look back, he went to his broom and started his journey back home, in the cold December night.

* * *

**_PANSY PARKINSON : HER MURDERER UNDER ARREST._ **

_There are few Christmas tales at tragic as this one, tales we would rather not have to write. Last Friday, we were reporting the discovery of the young Miss Pansy Parkinson, daughter of Alfred and Mandy Parkinson, horribly mutilated in the family's cabin in Northern Scotland. But today, a bit of comfort was brought to her friends and family, as justice was served, and her killer brought to justice._

_Pansy Parkinson was a young girl from Slytherin 91', alongside Draco Malfoy and Daphne Greengrass. She had lost her mother at a young age and, more recently, her father, during the terrible events known as the "Battle of Hogwarts". As some would argue that she, as her father, was fighting in the Dark Lord's name, her friends described her as a nice and caring person that tried nothing more, and nothing less, than to help and protect the ones dear to her heart. After the loss of her father, the grieving teenager decided to retreat into solitude, at her family's estate in Scotland._

_At this tragical life, a tragical end was brought to her by a monster. A young man, named Marcus Flint, was this morning arrested and charged with her torture and murder. During the police statement, the newly appointed Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, Sigurd Sorenson, explained that a locket belonging to Miss Daphne Greengrass was found at the crime scene, along with two unidentified hair. After interrogation, Mrs Greengrass admitted that the jewel had been stolen from her by Marcus Flint, just before forcing her into revealing Mrs Parkinson's location. After comparison, the hair found at the crime scene were, obviously, a perfect match to his._

_Flint was a Slytherin as well, from the 1987 promotion. Average student, he reached the position of Quidditch Captain, but never managed to pursue a professional career. Working at Hogsmeade's Spintwitches Sporting Needs, he was spotted, a week before these tragical events, picking a fight with several students of Hogwarts and Harry Potter himself._

_Despite Flint claiming his innocence, and his lawyer assuring that the young man is ready to testify under Veritaserum (despite the well-known fact that it would not be accepted in court), Mr Sorenson seemed confident about his case and assured to every reporter that justice would be served._

_Mr Flint's trial have been planned for next June, until which he would remain at Azkaban._

_As Christmas arrives, let's hope that this new would ease the pain of the ones mourning the passing of Pansy Parkinson._

_John Wolf, for the Daily Prophet._


	8. Christmas drinks

**Draco Malfoy**

**Lucius Malfoy**

**Pansy Parkinson** **\- dead**

**Vincent Crabbe**

**Gregory Goyle - dead**

**Millicent Bulstrode** **\- dead**

**Alecto Carrow (Azkaban)**

**Amycus Carrow (Azkaban)**

**Augustus Rookwood – for Fred (Azkaban)**

**Antonin Dolohov – for Remus**

**Fenrir Greyback – For Bill**

**Thorfinn Rowle (Azkaban)**

**Peter Pettigrew - dead**

**Bellatrix Lestrange - dead**

Looking at the names on the wall, waved his hand neglected. The letters rearranged themselves, dragging the crossed names back to the bottom of the wall. He looked again and thought " Well, this does looks like the lair of a true maniac...". That wasn't smart, he knew that. If anyone stumbled across this, for whatever reason, it would give away everything that he had done, and everything that was left to do. Another wave of his wand, and those names disappeared, so nobody would see the connection between him and the murders. He felt the bitter sting of regret, and then the way too familiar, but also forgotten, bite of fear.

He didn't want to admit it, but he could not hide from his own thoughts. The knife across Pansy's mouth, her pain, the blood, there was no need for all that, and he knew it. No matter how hard he wanted to deny it, he knew that the hate and anger he felt were demanding these actions, like a king demands his subjects. And he knew that he gave up to them without a fight, without even a second thought. And that scared the hell of him. He was used to anger, he could barely remember a moment without anger in his heart for this whole past year he spent running from, then to, Voldemort. But he was not used to losing the control, to surrender the keys and, no matter how hard he swore that would never happen, he was scared to death at the idea of becoming like him. Of becoming HIM.

But it would never happen, wouldn't it? Gryffindor's sword would never allow a dark wizard to wield it. Albus Dumbledore would have never make the same mistake twice, he trusted him. He must have known, he knew everything in the end! He kept his secret, chose what to reveal or not, but he always knew. So he would have approved this quest, Harry was so sure. The method, maybe not, but that was just a detail. He knew that his path was righteous, no matter how dark.

Then why hide it from his friends ? Why keep it secret ? For their own protection, he kept saying to himself.

Because they would never understand, he knew.

* * *

Standing on the Burrows doorstep, Harry hesitated a second. The place had been decorated with so many lights, blinking and spreading the Christmas spirit all the way to the bloody Arctic pole. Harry knew that Molly Weasley was probably trying to compensate the heavy and still mourning mood she was expecting for the holidays. He breathed in once, twice. Three times. On the fourth, he armed himself with bravery and knocked.

"George, my dear, go and see who's knocking", he heard Molly's voice scream yell inside. The sounds of the steps in the stairs. Slow. Hesitant. Finally, George Weasley opened the door.

"Harry...?" He looked surprised. " Why didn't you Floo in?"

" Hello George. I prefer to fly, these days. The broom feels right."

"Georgie ? Who's th..."

The face of Molly appeared at the door, and brightened when she saw the visitor.

" Harry ! What are you.. Come in! George ! Don't let him freeze outside! Let him in, by Merlin's beard!"

"It's okay, Molly, it's not that cold, and I have a good cloak." But nonetheless, he stepped in, and hugged his adoptive mother, before turning to his brother in arms. George looked tired, exhausted even, and distant. As Harry opened his arms to hug in as well, he barely responded, his eyes drawn to the floor, like gravity prevented him from looking up ever again.

With a sad smile, Harry did not insist, and led him back into the living room with his hand on his shoulder. Arthur was there, talking with Bill over a glass of Firewhisky. They both got up simultaneously, with the same smile on their faces, when Harry entered the room. The hugs were honest, real, full of this friendly love that Harry liked so much about them. He did saw, however, the way they pretend not to notice George's apathy at his side. Arthur took his cloak while Bill started with the classic smalltalk. What has he been up to ? Did he have a job already ? No? A career idea at least ? Why not pro Quidditch? Did he not miss Ron and Hermione too much ?

While Harry answered all his question with either an honest answer or an elusive lie, he focused on George, sat on the sofa, looking at the floor like it was a gateway to the next world. Until he heard footsteps in the stairs, and looked up. Fleur Delacour, in an elegant blue and silver dress, smiled at him.

"Bonjour Harry!" she said with her brightest smile, but he was not looking at her and she knew it. Just two steps behind, Ginny appeared and he forgot everything else. He even stopped listening, no, hearing what Bill was saying. She was wearing a green and silver dress, which was weird enough for a Gryffindor. It covered her body from under her knees up to her neck and her shoulders, but it was tight enough to let guess her curves. It also looked like the fabric had different kind of layers, playing with the shades of green to better mesmerize anyone who would look upon it.

" It looks like you like Fleur's early Christmas present" she said as a greeting, barely masking her laugh. At that moment, Harry realize that he was starring, and probably needed to close his mouth before he started drooling, as he knew he was already past the point of ridiculous. Her hair had been braided, probably by Fleur, into two little braids on the sides, joined in the back into a bigger one. It looked like a crown on her head. Her make-up looked a bit like the one she had when he saw her at Hogsmeade, but almost professionally done. Fleur was really a master of her craft.

"Harry ?" she asked. He snapped back to reality. It was way too easy to get lost into her.

"Hi Ginny! It's good to see you. I did not think you would be there yet. Hello Fleur. It's been way too long."

" What to do you mean, already? It's Christmas Eve, 7pm, and you're the one that's late!"

But despite her accusation, she was smiling and approached to kiss him. It was quick, it was light and soft, but it was the first time she did it in front of her family, and it ignited his heart. Fleur's hug barely calmed him down. Only when she left his side to join her mother in the kitchen he felt like he was breathing oxygen again instead of her sweet fire.

He sat down, next to George, and looked at the ceiling. He felt the warmth of the fire, the comforting sound of the ladies talking in the kitchen, the exciting smell of the food and the whisky in the glasses. He heard the echoes of the voices of his missing friends, and the terrifying icy cold of Fred's absence. The good and the bad, the sweet and the sour, the dark and the light, the ying and the yang, all mixed up in the air and in the bottom of his glass.

An hour later, as the diner was almost ready, the drinks almost empty, as Teddy Lupin freshly brought by his grandmother was laughing on Fleur's knees and Harry was playing with Ginny's hand, a giant Great Duke arrived and screeched at the window. Jumping from his seat, Arthur opened and retrieve the letter to his name. With a big smile, and almost happy tears in his eyes, he started to read.

_Dad, Mom,_

_I hope you will receive this in time for Christmas. The International Express Owl Service is incredibly expensive here in Australia, but the Ministry of Magic was kind enough to do us a favor. I guess our names carry weight here too, but let's call it a Christmas miracle, shall we?_

_You know I usually don't write much, but to be honest, I miss you guys. I'm guessing that, if you got this letter in time, Ginny will be home as well. Maybe Bill too. And Harry! I miss you all, and it writing makes me feel like I'm with you at least for a bit._

_You would not believe how fucking hot it is here for Christmas. We're at 30 degrees, so you better believe that we won't be seeing any snow on our side. Maybe you guys will get lucky._

_Speaking of luck, we got some good news. I don't know how much Hermione told to everyone in her last letters, but we made some huge progress. Hermione finally managed to talk to her parents, and even though it took a few spells, she managed to get them to the australian Healers. They've been working on their case for a month now, and it's slowly paying off. Their memories are coming back, slowly but surely. It might take another month, but we'll get them back._

_It's my second Christmas without you. Never thought that would happen, and I would very much like it if there's never a third time. But despite it all, I'm fine, I'm with Hermione, and I know you're all safe back home. It's not that bad of a Christmas._

_I love you all._

_Ron_

_PS : Hermione says "hi". Well, she says a lot more than that, but I would need a second letter._

Everybody laughed at the end of the post-scriptum, Molly through her tears. Well, almost everyone, but Harry saw that George could not prevent a little smile from stretching his lips.

* * *

"So, Harry, tell me" started Arthur, " I know you've come by the Ministry a lot these past weeks. I would lie if I said that I was not a tiny bit vexed that you didn't come by my office more often, but I have heard that you were asking a lot of questions about the Aurors and their work. Are you considering applying to Mr Sorenson's office ? I could introduce you, you know? Not that you need any good words, but he would be able to ask your questions..."

Harry finished his bowl of soup before answering. He knew the turkey was coming next, and it smelled so strong that he could almost taste it. He had to swallow twice before answering.

"I don't know, Arthur. I mean, sure, I wanted to, before... all that. But now..."

He put down his spoon, and felt the hand of Ginny on his thigh. Nothing sexy, just her sign of support, and he loved it, but Arthur eyes locked onto him brought him back to the talk.

"Now, I don't know. It all seems so slow. So many rules, so many procedures, forms to fill. While they keep scratching paper to fill their reports, Greyback and Dolohov are still out there."

"Harry..."

"No, i get it, Arthur. I really do, I understand. I know why it's necessary, why it has to work this way, at least to some extent... I just don't know if I can follow orders like that anymore."

" I understand, son. But you should really talk to Sorenson. I know that he had the idea of creating a special task force, with more freedom, a new kind of Auror. I don't really know more than that, but he could tell you what his vision is, and I'm sure he would be interested in your opinion"

"Then maybe I will! Thanks, Arthur. It's good to know."

And the Christmas talks resumed. The classic questions about how school was going, about whenever Bill and Fleur would give the Weasley's their first grandchild, about how Ron and Hermione might be doing, back to Harry's career, then to Ginny's options... The turkey came, then the dessert. It was a regular Christmas, filled with laughters, debates, jokes and conversation that should not be started, until politics and religions were replaced by sports as it is supposed to.

But it was not supposed to be regular. It was supposed to be painful, full of memories, of cries. For George, laughing and talking Quidditch was an insult, a disgrace, a spit in his brother's face. Each seconds, his hands were tighter around his fork and knife. At each unembarrassed laugh of his mother, he clenched his teeth more. At every stupid fucking joke of his father, his knuckles got whiter.

He ended his fifth glass of whisky, knowing that neither his mother nor his father actually noticed. They were way too busy pretending he wasn't even here. He knew he should not get so angry, Fred would disapprove, he kept saying to himself over and over again. But he was not so sure... would he ? Would he not want his brother to miss him ? To stop taking all this bullshit, all these fakes smiles and forced laughs ? Fred was for real, his jokes and pranks were for real. The laughs and happiness he brought were for real, while none of this was.

It's when his father burst a loud laugh at some stupid blabbering from Teddy that he finally lost it all. In a single movement, he got up, flipping his chair over, and smashed both his fists on the table. His empty plate of chocolate pudding fell to the floor and shattered, water spilled out of several glasses. His foot trample onto the shards, but the screeching sound got covered by his raging yell.

"That's enough !"

Silence fell around him. His mother was opened-mouth, too shocked to react when she would usually scream louder than him to send his to his bedroom. In the corner of his eyes, he noticed Harry laid back, his drink in his hand, and what maybe looked like a narky smile on his face, but he was too loaded and too hot to be sure. But he didn't miss Ginny's hand in his.

"George..." started Arthur, the pain in his voice unhidden.

"Shut the fuck up, Dad ! You all shut the fuck !" He knew he was way past the line, but he could not stop. The gates now opened would not be closed so easily. "You all disgust me ! How can you all laugh so freely, like nothing happened ! How can you all pretend nothing happened ? Eat like Fred's not missing ! Like there's not a bloody empty chair next to me ? What kind of fucking parents are you ? It's like you don't even care that your son is dead !"

"George this is ENOUGH !" screamed the loud, low pitched voice of Bill. He was up too, despite his wife's hand trying to calm him down.

"No it is not, Bill ! It's not ! It will never be enough, not until you all stop acting like I didn't lose my fucking brother ! None of you even said his name tonight. None of you mentioned him ! "

Tears were running down his cheeks, but his voice was still strong and steady. His mother was sobbing, though, unable to answer, Ginny now a her side, patting her back. Arthur, back on his seat, was staring at his empty plate, hit in the face by the truth out his son's mouth. Only Bill was standing strong against his brother's storm.

"He's gone ! He's dead! But Merlin be my witness, I will not allow him to be forgotten ! I will not allow you to act like he did not even existed !"

By the time he finished his last sentence, Bill had grabbed him by the collar and pushed him against the wall.

"How dare you say that we don't care about Fred ? How dare you put Mom through that ? Don't you think that we've all been through enough ?"

George pushed him back, hard enough so he would hit the table. A glass fell, shattered next to the bowl. Arthur tried to got up to intervene, but his forces failed him. It was too much for him, the sadness, the pain and the alcohol. Bill straightened, ready to bring the fight back to his younger brother, when a firm hand on his shoulder stopped him.

"Harry?"

Without a word, Harry drew his wand from his pocket, slowly, but did not point it at George. He waved it, and letter after letter, the name of the fallen brother appeared in the air. Everyone was staring, he knew it, but at least George was stopped in his tracks. When the name was completed, black ink floating in the air, Harry throw it against the wall with a powerful move. In a flash, the name travel like a leaf in a hurricane and crashed against the bricks, with a loud bang. They felt the floor tremble, like an earthquake with Fred's name at its epicenter. It was now written in giant black letters on the red bricks, almost incrusted in the stones. Molly let out a sob that no one could really decypher. Harry turned back to the table, _accioed_ the bottle of whisky from the living room, and poured himself yet another drink, and a second one that he handed to George.

"Your brother was a good man, George. And no offense, but he was funnier than you. He was a good friend, a real friend, and a great fighter. I loved him like I love you, and I will never, never forget him."

George had the glass in hand, but could barely hold it, not to mention drink from it. He was crying way too much. Harry finished, his glass raised in the air.

"To our brother. To Fred"

And he swallowed it all in one go.

"To my brother. I love you, Fred". That was Ginny, with her mother's drink in hand, and she drank it the same way Harry did. Molly did not fight, she even chuckled through her tears. Arthur took over.

" I miss you son. And I'm sorry. Here's to you, Fred!" His whisky disappeared.

If not for Bill to hold him, George would have fall to his knees, but he managed back to his chair. Tears would not stop falling, like they would not stop the days after the battle. It felt like losing him all over again, but instead of suffocating under the pain, those tears felt like a liberation, like the first bubble of fresh air he finally breathed after seven months. He could not drink this one, he had enough, but he raised it nonetheless.

"Farewell bro. Thank you."

Bill drank it for him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i hope you enjoyed this chapter, I liked writing it... I'm hoping to give a bigger role to Ginny at some point, to George as well.. let's see how it turns out =)


	9. Gifts and Destiny

George tried to fix the broken plate, but his hand was shaking too much for the spell to work. Ginny stepped in, and he repaid her Reparo with a grateful nod, while he at least put the glasses back on the table. Molly was still sobbing, but her breath was back under control and she was holding her husband's hand firmly. Bill was back on his seat next to Fleur, who was whispering something in his ear. He was pale, his anger demanding to be released in a raging hurricane. This was the kind of feeling that scared him, making him wonder if the Healers were not wrong about the werewolf's bite... But the veela's gentle touch worked its magic, and the rage faded away with every heartbeat.

Harry dragged is chair next to George, and sat down.

"Look, I was planning to give it to you tomorrow morning, with the rest of the gifts, but I think it's best if I do it right away."

George addressed a questioning look, not getting what Harry was talking about. He understood something about a gift, but that was it. Harry rose from his seat, and said : "Stay here, I'll be right back." and without waiting for an answer, he left the table and went upstairs.

Ron's room smelled fresh and clean, like his mother had just clean it up, but the dust on the furniture was piling up for at least two months. Maybe Molly thought they would return in a matter of days, kept the room clean for a while, but quickly understood that they will not be back that soon.

In the corner of the room, a small pile of wrapped gifts were waiting. He had them sent by Owl Post Service a few days before to be sure he would not have to carry everything with him at once. Molly had been kind enough to retrieve and hide them in the room, so he would have his presents to offer for Christmas morning, along with everyone else.

He searched for a few seconds and got his hands on what look unmistakably like a big book in gold and red gift-wrap, and went back down, quickly and loudly.

"Here", he said, presenting his gift to the grieving twin. "Merry Christmas, George."

Cleary, he barely understood what was happening, but it took it nonetheless. His siblings, at least the ones who were here, gathered around him.

"Open it", whispered Ginny.

He looked at her, and the only thing that actually gave him the strength to open it was her smile. Warm, comforting. Honest and real.

When he tore the wrapping, his hand was steady again.

The book was thick, its cover of a deep dark red, with the letters FW engraved in gold as an obvious reminder of the Gryffindor's colors. He opened it, and as he slowly turned the pages, tears gathered again at the corners of his eyes. A moving picture of Fred flying on his broom during a match against Ravenclaw, another one of them together in front of their freshly opened shop, a two pages story written by a feminine hand. The book was filled with pictures of Fred flying, or laughing, and stories written by various authors.

"I asked everyone to share whatever picture or anecdote they had about your brother" explained Harry. "Angelina, Katie Bell, even Oliver Wood. They all wanted to write something. Share their memories, and their love for him."

George was now crying for real, silently, trying to prevent the tears from falling onto his precious book. He was turning the pages faster now, with his mother now looking over his shoulder, her mouth covered with her hands.

" You knew about this ?" she asked at her daughter.

"I even wrote a couple of stories myself" she answered proudly. "Harry's idea, though, and a brilliant one !"

Molly could only nod her approbation.

"You see" continued Harry, " when Hagrid offered me the album with my parent's picture, it changed everything for me. No matter Hogwarts, Ron and Hermione, Hagrid, and everything else, there was always this thought in the back of my mind. This stupid idea that I was alone, left behind and abandoned. Until I got this book. With this, there were finally with me. They might have left me, but I did not lost them. I feared you might feel the same way so... I hope that it's ok... I mean, it really helped me. It keeps helping, a lot, so I thought..."

Suddenly, he was not so sure about his present anymore. George would not stop crying about the book, he did not even look at Harry.

"It's perfect... Thank you, thank you so much" he finally stuttered, to Harry's great relief. "Thank you all so much. I will read everything once I get my thoughts in order. I will write to everyone to thank them too."

He kept going through the pages, some of them twice or three time, chuckled to some pictures, laughed even for a special one that remind him some memories no one else would get. After a while, talks resumed around him, quieter, more serious. Like it should be, at least for now. Someday, maybe, they would spend Christmas like they used to, when all that would be left of Fred would be joy and happy memories.

The world outside was black and cold. Quiet. The white of the snow on the edges of the windows gave a comforting feeling, shielding Harry from the darkness of the winter night, as he was about to go to sleep. His old bed in Ron's room was calling for him, familiar and reassuring. The silence through the house was now unbroken, as even Molly and Arthur went to bed. The young man tried to focus through the silence, trying to ear the breathing of Ginny despite the walls and the doors. He was sure he could hear it, but maybe he was just imagining it. He kept debating with himself, if he should join her and break the unspoken rule that no boys would ever be allowed in Ginny's room with Molly still alive. Maybe she was expecting him, after all, they have been apart for a few months already and it would be a deserved reward. He even stepped outside his room and went to hers, hopeful, thinking about how her sleeping outfit would reveal her skin, the shape of her breasts... But hearing Ginny's slow breathing through her door, he knew he should not wake her up. They would be together soon enough. It was 2am, and his pillow would also be a good partner for the night.

* * *

When he rose from his bed, it felt like he had slept half an hour, but the sun in the sky told otherwise. Downstairs, everyone was up with cups of tea or coffee in their hands, and obviously waiting for him. So were his godson, Teddy, and her grandmother Andromeda Tonks.

"Rise and shine, look who's finally up!" teased Bill. "It seems that being done with school made you lose some good habits. Maybe I should drop by your house every now and then at 6am to bring them back!"

"Don't you dare!" he answered with a yawn. "Or I will make sure you and your wife never get any private time for the rest of your life."

George bursts in laughter, the first one in so long, while Fleur opened wide her outrage eyes and Bill lift his hands in surrender.

"Oh Harry, you're awake! Perfect!" Said Molly while bringing a plate of bacon to the table. " I though for a moment I would have to send someone check on you. Please, come and eat. We'll exchange presents right after."

It was almost noon when they finally sat around the Christmas tree. Molly had a lunch cooked already, but everybody was so full of breakfast that it might wait for dinner. Wrappings were laying across the floor, scattered around by excited hands in hurry to open their presents.

His new jumper over his shoulders, Harry was carefully opening the the black box Ginny just handed him.

"I picked it myself" she had said. " I hope it will be useful!"

Once the box opened, Harry froze. His face took a pale shade and his smile disappeared. Ginny stepped back, now worried.

"You don't like it?" she muttered.

But he barely heard her. Before his eyes were flashing the last moments of Pansy Parkinson, the blood pouring out of her mouth, the knife through her mouth. In his ears were ringing the screams of Milicent while the blade was slashing through her flesh.

"You told me you started to cook, so I thought a real good knife would be helpful... Mom told me that the japanese ones were very high quality, so I thought, why not..."

The sadness in her voice was heartbreaking. Everybody around stopped talking. Maybe that's what brought Harry back to the present, and to the incredible silver blade shining in its box. The engraved japanese symbol on the handle, the smooth grip, the perfectly balanced blade, all of it screamed of absolute perfection. She might have spent all of her savings in this, he thought. He slowly took it in his hand, inspecting it without a word.

"It's absolutely wonderful, Ginny. I'm sorry, i just... I guess I had a hard time believing my eyes, this is too much..."

The emotions in his voice made it feel sincere enough for her to be reassured and smile again, but truth be told, he was mainly trying not to think of how he could use this for other purpose than cuisine.

"Do you know what those symbols mean?" he asked, pointing at the asian symbols. "Some invocation or rune work?"

She laughed. "I'm pretty sure that's just the brand in japanese" she answered. "Okay, give me mine present now! My turn, My turn!"

Harry sighed with a smile. "Alright, alright ! Jeez you can't let me enjoy my stuff for a minute, can you?" She knew he was joking, and waited for him to get her present from the tree. But he did not. Instead, he reached for his pocket and a small black box appeared in his hand. The perfect size for a ring.

"Oh god, Harry..." Once again, everyone was watching. She was torn between the excitement, and the fear. Something, deep down, made her wish it was not a ring. It would be too much, too soon. It would look to much like a promise of a life together that she was wanting, but not yet ready to commit to.

"Come on" he said, "open it!"

She did, with shaking hands, while her mother hold her breath. Inside, a black velvet cushion held a pair of earrings. Silver triangles in which a round clear diamond stone. In a way, the shape reminded Harry of the Deathly Hallows, except that the darkness of their aura were replaced by the warm light of the silvery frame. They were beautiful, shining light under the winter morning light, small enough so each could fit on the tip of one finger. Holding her hand in front of her mouth, Ginny tried really hard not to cry. Her mother even let a "oh my god" out. Arthur slightly pat her on the arm to attract her attention.

"Molly", he whispered. "I think I've seen them before".

"They belonged to my mother" Harry explained, as if he heard him. "Or at least I think. I've found them into the family safe at Gringotts, and well, obviously, it's not like I would ever wear them myself. So I like to think that they belonged to her and that she would like to know they now belong to someone I love."

Now Ginny cried for real, while her smile could not be bigger. She hated to show herself so girly, fragile, but it was impossible for her to contain the overflow of gratitude, love, and happiness.

"Harry" gently spoke Mr Weasley. "If Sirius were here, he would confirm better than I can, but I think those are the earrings Lily was wearing when they got married."

The young man chuckled. "Well, then this is taking a way bigger emotional turn than I expected, but it makes me twice happier to know they are Ginny's to wear now."

"Hell", yelled Bill, "Harry, you're making it very hard for the rest of us to look good here."

"Love, when are you offering me such fine jewels?" asked Fleur with a teasing smile.

"You know you don't need any piece of diamond to be the most beautiful person in any room, darling."

"Smooth come back, brother", laughed George. "Very smooth!"

While laughs and discussions went on until the mid-afternoon lunch was over, Harry was trying very hard to keep every thoughts of blood and knives far from his mind. But as the old saying goes, try no to think of an elephant, and you inevitably will. The knife in his hand, used to cut the meat in small pieces, brought him back every time to the magnificent blade Ginny gave him, stored in his coat's pocket. The tension in his muscles did not escape his girlfriend's watchful eyes, but she said nothing, giving him the space she believed he needed.

* * *

But when dessert came, fate finally made its move. A sign for Harry that Destiny itself approved of his crusade. It came knocking on the window in the shape of an owl. Arthur Weasley clearly recognized the said bird, as he frowned his eyebrows.

"What the..."he muttered.

He let it in and gathered the letter it was holding in its beak, opened it and froze.

"No way..." he whispered.

He had turned to a shade of pale Molly had only saw when he learned the death of Fred. She immediately thought of the worst, maybe it was Ron and Hermione, maybe it was Charlie. She wanted to cry, but her husband turned to her and she noticed no sadness in his eyes. Only hate and anger.

"What is it, Dad?" asked Bill. He was already up, his hand on his wand ready to get things done.

"It's... nothing, kids, nothing".

But it was a lie, obviously, and his shaken voice could not fool a baby. As a matter of fact, it actually did not, as even Teddy Lupin stopped playing on his grandmother's knees.

"Dad, tell us. Did something happen?" pressed George.

Arthur looked at his son, not sure about what his next move should be. He probably should not involve him in this, but something pushed him to. A sense of justice, maybe. He opened the letter again, and read out loud.

" _Dear Arthur._

_I'm sorry to bother you on such a special day, but something just came up, and it cannot wait._

_We just received a message from Azkaban. Rookwook has been attacked by Dementors in his cell. Nothing much out of the ordinary, but his heart almost gave up. This near-death experience scared him enough to get to talk to us. He agrees to reveal hiding spots, names, and more importantly, the probable location of Antonin Dolohov, in exchange for him to be moved into the medium security area, where Dementors would not get a hold on him._

_As far as I'm concerned, I would tend to accept, as it would help us take down all that's left of the Dark Lord's network._

_But since it's Rookwood, this is not a decision I can keep you out of._

_So tell me, what is your choice?_

_Please hurry. He will be out of the infirmary by tonight, and back in his cell shortly after, but another attack might happen at anytime, and who knows if he's going to make it next time.._."

Now George had his hands turned into fists, anger and indecision swirling into his mind.

"No way, Dad" intervene Bill. "This dirtbag killed Fred. He killed our brother. Let him rot!"

Arthur looked at him longly, instensyl, and slowly started to nod. But before he could finish his approbation, George raised his hand.

"Ok. Accept, Dad." His voice was cold and sharp like Harry's new knife.

"But George" protested Bill. " He killed Fred ! His spell created the explosion that blasted the wall and took his life !"

"You think I don't know that ? You think I don't think about it every day? That I don't want to burn the whole world down in anger because I wasn't here to stop it, or push him out of the way, or anything else? I fucking missed one spell to take down another Death Eater, and by the time I landed the second shot, it was too late ! One stupid missed spell ! One! It's all it took for Rookwood to..."

He stopped, out of breath. He straightened himself up, and breathed deeply.

"But this is not about me. Nor about him. This is about all the lives we can save by stopping Dolohov and the others. We don't know what they're doing right now, but it anything happens to anyone, if they hurt just one soul because we chose not to take this chance, I would never forgive myself. Fred would never forgive us. So we do like he would have done: we take the deal, he stays locked up, and we send him all his friends as a bloody Thank you present!"

"That's not all." Arthur's voice was sharp and ice cold.

_"Another news, which could have waited more, but this might be a good time, especially if it can help your pain._

_Fenrir Greyback has been found. Dead. He was shot in the south of France by two muggles who thought he was a boar, and took two bullets in the back. I can't help to find the irony delightful. The identity has been confirmed yesterday by two Aurors. May this news bring your family a bit of comfort._

_Once again, sorry to drop this dilemma on you on Christmas._

_Kiss your wife for me._

_Sincerely,_

_Your friend, Kingsley_ "

"Well, this is indeed a fitting end to that mutt" declared Bill. His grin was dark and sadistic, almost as if fangs would appear through his lips. His wife's hand on his shoulder brought him back to decency. The way she looked at him erased all sense of satisfaction and replaced it with shame, the shame of lowering down to their level even for a second.

"That doesn't change a thing" said Georges. "I stand by what I said. Take the deal."

But Arthur was not looking at him, even though he heard him. He was staring at his wife. She was not crying, not a single tear running down her cheeks, when Harry had expected her to. After all, she always cried for a yes or no. But the world of ice in her eyes matched the one in her husband's voice. The hate battled against the greater good in her brain, and only her son's voice put an end to it.

"I agree with Georgie. Fred's memory is worth way more than our need for revenge. As long as justice is still served, and he never gets out, we can take the deal."

Ginny nodded, without a word. Only Bill was still against, but as he said : " Well, your choice fellows. If this is what you all want, I will not stand in your way. I just hope it won't come back to bite us up the bum."

Meanwhile, Harry had said nothing. He had just listen. It was a great news. A fantastic opportunity just arised. A named just got taken out of his list, despite the slight regret of not crossing it himself, but more importantly, there was now an opening. Someone with informations, within his grasp, a way to find Dolohov or Goyle, to reach the Death Eaters in Azkaban, and maybe, maybe, to find the breach in the Malfoy's security.

All Harry had to do was to get his hands on Rookwood, and if possible, before he rats the all out to the Ministry. After all, he would be annoyed to see his prays snatched just before his eyes.


	10. Break out

Harry had to hurry. Arthur had sent the answer right away, and by the evening, they received confirmation from the acting Minister. Rookwood would stay at the infirmary for five days, just enough time for the Ministry to arrange his transportation and the hearing, as well as setting up the post-confessions arrangements.

So Harry had four days to figure out how to snatch him from under his allies noes. He could not ask to be part of the escort team, such a job would make him unable to disappear unnoticed.

First of all, he needed to know how they would transport the prisoner. The only thing he knew about Azkaban is that it was in the middle of the North Sea, a couple of miles away from the shore, and that, similar to his school, no Portkeys nor Apparitions were possible. So that left a couple of options. They could use brooms from the sea to London, but the trip would take long, and how could they make the prisoner fly without risking him to either fall or try to run away? So he felt that this was out of the realm of possible. The more obvious to him was that they would first bring him to the shore, out of the prison's limitations, and then either Portey or Apparate to the Ministry. Portey's could be messed with, or replaced. That much he knew, with be bitter memories of Crouch Junior's nasty trick that brought him and Cedric to Voldemort. So maybe, maybe, if they did use a Portey, he could return them the favor. If they sticked to Apparitions, which sounded the safest to him, then he would have to grab him during the transport. Now, how to fish for those information without raising suspicions?

"Arthur ?", he asked as he was putting his jacket on, ready to ride back to Grimmauld Place, "if I need to study and prepare for, let's say, and interview for an Auror position, or anything else?"

" You mean, like a library?"

"Yes, exactly. Now that I'm not at Hogwarts anymore, I realize that it was indeed very useful. And please, never let Hermione know i said that."

He chuckled, very aware of what Ron called "her absolute obsession for books".

"Well, Hogwarts library is by far the biggest in the country. Maybe even the biggest in Europe. But if I need something that I can't find at the Ministry, I go to Oxford. They have quite a collection as well, especially in everything regarding magic laws or history. I don't know about spells or Auror training, though."

Harry grinned. That was perfect. His coat on, the warming spell effective, a last loving kiss to Ginny, he grabbed his broom, and took off. The wooden handle in his hand felt good. It was pretty much the only thing that could take the knife out of his mind. Flying was nothing alike, not even a second nature, but more like the only times where he felt truly, fully, like himself. Not, that is not entirely correct. Those were the only times where he felt anything but himself. He became air, frozen wind and speed. He felt like the god of the sky, gone was Harry Potter, gone was The-Boy-Who-Lived. He was Freedom itself.

Lost in his thoughts, he arrived at his door quicker than he expected, welcomed by Kreacher and his usual bad mood, and enjoyed a warm shower before dropping in his bed. He would have liked to think about Ginny before falling asleep, her body and her skin against his, flashbacks of the few alone time they had together during the summer. But no matter how hard he tried, his mind always rushed back to Rookwood and every ideas he could come up with.

He woke up late, too late for his taste. The breakfast Kreacher had prepared for him had gone cold, and the sun was high in the sky. He wanted to be at Oxford before lunch, but he obviously would be late, as the flight would take a couple of hours.

Oxford was famous, even among the magical communities. As it produced a fair share of Great Britain's greatest muggle minds, if not the world's best, it attracted quite a few wizards and witches who thought of themselves as "scientists". Potion makers, spells creators, history researcher, the few curious ones turned into a community, then a magical town, living in parallel of the muggle university. Hogwarts was always the only real place of education for the magical youth, but Oxford was the place to go if you wanted to dedicated your long life to knowledge.

* * *

The entrance to the magical town was similar to the access to Diagon Alley. Near the backdoor of one of the secondary building of the university, he got his wand out, and tapped in a seemingly random order on a couple of old bricks. Thanks Arthur for the tips.

But unlike Diagon Alley, the bricks did not start moving around to open a passage. Instead, everything around him started to falter, like a reality was just a piece of silk being removed for its support. Lights flickered, and soon everything around him had changed, expect the door and the old bricks in front of him. Magic was so incredible, he thought again. The most brilliant minds in the muggle world would explode at the very thought of the physical implications of this man-made parallel universe.

"Hello, Sir" said a voice behind him. " Could you please state your name and the reason of you visit in Magical Oxford?"

Startled, Harry turned around, his wand still in his hand, ready to blast any potential foe. Instead, he found a house elf, dressed with a fancy red coat and a matching hat. It reminded him a lot of the uniforms you could find worn by the personnel in very expensive hotels.

"Judging by the look in your eyes, Sir, I think it best to explain. My name is Alph, and I am in charge of welcoming strangers in our town. Those clothes are not mine, but belong to the City. If I scared you, or displeased you in any way, please accept my deepest apologies and feel free to report to the town council for any punishment you would see fit."

"Calm down, Alph" said Harry with a grin. This elf's manner clearly had nothing to do this Dobby's, or any elf he ever met. "I don't need to complain about anything, I was just surprised. My name is Harry Potter, and I am here because I am searching for informations about transportation and their safety protocols."

Hearing the name, the elf's eyes grew wider and wider.

"Master Potter! You are making us an extraordinary honor! Visiting us, here in Oxford! Alph is at your entire service, Sir!"

Another flashback of Dobby crossed his mind, and he turned it away with a quick shake of his head.

"Thank you Alph. I just need you to point me to right place so I can do my researches."

"Of course, Sir! Follow me! Mistress Dawson would be the right person to talk to. She knows a great deal about portkeys and brooms. She lives nearby, and should be most glad to have you as her guest, Sir!"

* * *

Surprisingly, she was, even if he was an unexpected guest the day after Christmas. By the look of her house, her table and everything else all around, she did not stop working at all for the holidays.

"I am working with Nimbus to create their next broom" she explained right after the introductions. "We want to make the Firebolt look like a children toy, but I can't find the right shape just yet. Please, just sit here, while I finish writing this down."

Harry sat on the old chair, an amused smile on his lips. She had barely looked at him, she reminded him of the craziness of the magical world, back when he was just eleven, when everything looked nuts and everyone was weird.

After ten minutes, she finally sat down in front of him, and studied him from the toes to the head. When her gaze reached his scar, she froze for two seconds, and smiled.

"Well, I guess that if I need the opinion of a true broom-rider, I have what I need just here, have I not, Mister Potter?"

"I would be thrilled to help however I could, Miss Dawson, especially for the next Nimbus. Even if this is not the reason of my presence here. And please, call me Harry."

Claire Dawson looked like she was fifty, maybe sixty, but magic being involved, she could be more than a hundred. Her gray hair were messy and clearly lacking attention, but it would not take away the magnificence of her green eyes, sparkling with life and mischief. She was as tall as Harry, wearing a black robe covered in dust and small specks of wood.

"So, Harry, what brings you to Oxford, and more specifically to my humble house?"

" Well I had some questions about the means of transportations in the wizarding world, to, let's say, understand a bit more some things that happened to me over the years. Since I do not have access to Hogwarts Library as freely as I had over the past years, I've been advised to come to Oxford. One things leading to another, here I am."

"So what is your question then? And may I offer you some tea? or biscuits? I don't have guests very often, would you notice, but I do remember my manners."

Before she could get up, Harry declined with a simple gesture and another smile.

"What I would like to know is" he started, "what the safest way to travel is. Not regarding accidents or things like that, but regarding attacks. Ambushes, tricks from ill intentioned peoples, this kind of things".

"Oh I see" she whispered. "Definitely not broom related indeed. Well, it could, but using brooms is the slowest way of traveling long distances, as you might know. And if the stories are right, you would already know all about being sittin' ducks, or should I say flying ducks, out in the sky. I guess you already narrowed it down to Portkeys and Apparition, am I correct?"

He nodded.

"Well this is a clever thinking, young boy. Both have indeed their pros and cons. You see, Apparition is better in specific situations, since it is very flexible. From here, I could decide to go either to the other side of the room, or the other side of the city. Even the other side of the country, if I was powerful enough. So in that way, this is very hard to predict, and very much useful to escape enemies, for example. However, as you have been taught already, accidents might happen. Splinching being the most common one, but it could be far worse. Also, it can be disturbed by outside magic. If you were to get hit by a spell at the same time, the results could be disastrous. Or if I were to, let's say, force you to Apparate with me, your own force of will and magic could very well disrupt the whole process and kill both of us. Which is why, if your not a highly skilled master, it is very dangerous to drag someone with you in the process, unless you can take him or her by surprise, or the person is willing to let you lead the way."

"I see. I guess it leaves Portkeys, then."

"Not necessarily. The inconvenient with Portkeys is that they need time to be prepared, and can only be set up to one and only one destination. In that way is it predictable. It can also be tampered with, as, well, you might already know given your... history. But if you have the time, it is by far the best safest way to travel, especially in group. Also, it is easy to forget about the Floo Powder, which is highly reliable, but well, you need a chimney at each end. And to be sure of what's waiting for you on the other side. Finally, you also have all the muggle-inspired devices. Trains, Flying cars, the Knight Bus, magical ships, etc. "

"Hum..." muttered Harry. He had indeed forgot about that. From what Mrs Dawson just said, it felt safe to assume that they would use a Portkey, that seemed to be the most obvious. But from where? And where to?

"Are you preparing to enter the Auror Academy?" she suddenly ask, taking Harry by surprise.

"Maybe. I don't know yet."

"This is the sort of thing you would learn there, you know. So why he rush?"

There was a slight suspicious tone in her voice, that startled the young wizard. Had he been too straight-forward? In that case, asking her about Azkaban would be too risky. He scoffed and answered :

"No, as I said, I don't even know if Auror is the right path for me. I feel like I have been through enough action for the rest of my life. No, as I mentioned earlier, I just want to... understand. It's more than that actually. I just... There's not much I trust anymore. I'm afraid of touching anything, going anywhere. I have been tricked so many times before... I figured that if I actually start understanding things before they actually happen to me, I might, you know. Feel safer."

Her traits softened and a new smile reached her lips.

"I understand", she said slowly." I have always been lucky enough to be spared by all the monstrosities of the wars. Oxford was never much the focus of the attention for anyone, I guess. I therefore tend to forget that, despite your young age, you already went through so much. Listen, I hope that those information might be of any help. But I might have something else for you."

She got her wand out of her pocket, and Harry could not refrain his instinct to reach for his. She picked up his reaction and took a step back.

"I see. Indeed, you went trough much, Harry. I'm sorry, I should have warned you. There is nothing to worry, I will just show you a spell that might be useful for you. Are you familiar with the human presence detection spell ?"

"Not as much as my friend Hermione, but yes, I am".

**Vectura Revelio.**

Nothing happened.

"Is it supposed to do something?" he asked.

"Exactly the same thing as the previously mentioned spell, except that it will reveal portkeys" she explained with a smile. "This way, you should be able to make sure nothing is trapped around you, if you ever feel the need."

A giant grin appeared on Harry's face. He could not have dreamed of a better tool to spot the Aurors!

"Thank you very much, Mrs Dawson! That will help tremendously! Thank you again I can't say it enough! Now, I should leave you be, it seems you had a lot of work to do before I barged in."

"Nonsense, my young friend" she protested with a laugh. "Although I do appreciate the politeness. But if you don't mind, would you be so kind as to give me your opinion on..."

"The handle looks a bit too short. Resting your feet on the footrests is always great for balance, you know that already, but a bit of curving for the thighs would help a lot for the confort."

He left the house as she was looking onto her project, excited by those new insights.

"Alph?" he asked stepping outside and shivering under the winter's cold.

The elf popped next to him, asking for its order.

"Take me to the library, please."

"Searching for something specific, sir?"

"The history of Azkaban."

If Alph was surprised, he showed nothing of it. He just nodded, and let him to the biggest building in sight, slightly limping next to him.

After hours of research, until the night had fallen and dinner time drove most of the public away, he did not have much to go, but that was enough. The prison was in the middle of the North Sea, that much in already knew. The history of its construction led him to deduce that the closest shores would be somewhere in the Yorkshire and that some wizard who conducted experiments on the prisoners in the XVIIIth century lived and died in a place called Warren Mill.

According to the giant map of the country painted on a table in the center of the library, Warren Mill was just south of a national nature reserve, and that sounded like a perfect place to transport dangerous people without anybody around to notice, muggles or wizards. It was nothing more than a bet, one he could not really afford to lose if he wanted to have a single shot at getting his hand on the prisoner. He did not have the time, nor any idea for a plan B, so this would have to do.

He spent the following two days preparing the rest of his plan, how to grab Rookwood and what to do with him, and the day finally arrived. He sent Kreacher away with orders, thought of alibis, prepared the room. The days went on like a flash, until it was time.

He sent an owl to Arthur just a couple of minutes after the sun just rose, wishing him good luck for the day, hoping he would not have to face him on the field, and that this simple attention would help redirect suspicions if any were to happen.

He grabbed his broom, his jacket, his wand and of course, his father's cloak. Finally, he carefully stuffed in his pocket a little round object that he had acquired the day before, thanks to Kreacher and Fletcher.

Flying all the way to the Lindisfarme Reserve took him a couple of hours, and his hands were freezing on the handle despite the heating charm. He dodged a couple of water-loaded clouds, but hoped he did not wasted too much time, as he did not have any idea when the prisoner would actually been moved. Morning would make sense, if they planned to interrogate him during the afternoon. When he reached his destination, he covered himself with his cloak to protect himself from wandering eyes. Keeping the cloak on was really hard with the wind and the speed, and it became even harder when he started casting the detection spell.

The whole area was as flat as a book, the parts not covered in ice or snow where either muddy or bushy.

He had to slow down so much that he pretty much ended flying on-the-spot.

**Vectura Revelio.**

**Vectura Revelio.**

**Vectura Revelio.**

Nothing. After an hour of trying, his patience was running low and and frustration going strong. He was cold, he was wet, tired, and he was getting more and more desperate. His magic was thinner the minute.

**Vectura Revelio.**

He felt it. A thin connection, like the touch of a hair against the back of his hand, a fragile string pulling his brain very, very slightly toward a direction. He clutched his cloak even more, and moved slowly, repeating the incantation again and again. The bond became stronger, the direction clearer, but the magic costs was quickly tiring him down. He felt close to actually falling of his broom when he got the spot. Finally.

He landed behind a bush, and observed. He felt the cold of the snow through the fabric of his boots and did his very best to ignore the very displeasing feeling of his trousers getting wet.

* * *

Two men were standing on an earth mound barely three meters square that stood out of the water, ten meters away from the shore. Between them, an old teapot. Harry waited.

Suddenly, a third man popped next to them, almost falling into the water because of the lack of space. The red in his hair send shivers down Harry's spine. Arthur Weasley. Of course he would have to be here... But where was the prisoner?

He appeared not so long after, on an old-looking wooden boat, propulsed by whatever magic Harry could imagine. Even from far away, Harry could see how thin, tired, pale and sick Rookwood was looking. But his real concerned was the two men standing up next to him, keeping balance with a surprising ease. Harry was pretty sure those were two highly skilled Aurors, the Ministry would not dare to send any less. He took the round object from his pocket and squeezed it hard, hoping it would be powerful enough, as he had not planned for six people to take down.

It was a Sleep Bomb. Something very simple in reality, the magical principe of infusing a spell into a object was very common. But turning one into a weapon could be highly illegal, that's why he had Kreacher tracked down Fletcher, for the third time, although this time, the petty bandit did not disapprove that much. The order was simple : scout the black market for an item that could put multiple people to sleep at once, and he had only one day to do so. But with the promise of a lot of Galleons, Mundungus Fletcher delivered, and came back with this round ball of metal, barely bigger than a Golden Snitch. The thief had explained that it was infused with a powerful version of the Bewitched Sleep spell, similar to the one used on Ron and Hermione when they were submerged in the lake, during the second task of the Triwizard Tournament. The device just had to be brought in range of the target, and triggered with a simple spell.

His memory wiped, and his pocket full, Fletcher had left Harry's House with a big smile on his face.

Now it was the time of Truth.

 **Wingardium Leviosa** , he whispered. And the ball lifted in the air. Focusing his mind, trying to stay hidden as much as he could under his cloak while the prisoner and his guards were reaching the mound, he drove the device above them, unnoticed.

Rookwood got out of the boat and was immediately grabbed by the two people waiting for him. Meanwhile, Arthur Weasley turned around, maybe because he was looking out for an external threat, maybe because it was too hard for him to look at his son's murderer.

 **Detonmium**. Harry said, keeping the ball in his wand's aim.

The Levitation spell fell off, and so did the bomb, falling in the middle the six men, next to the tea pot.

"What the..."muttered one of them.

He did not get to finish, as the ball quickly turned to red, and exploded with great force. Harry had expected something like a gas maybe, or a magical wind, but nothing like that. Without any fire, the detonation blew everything and anyone away, and was clearly destined to more than just putting people asleep. Two of the men were thrown into the air like broken dolls, while Arthur, the furthest away from the blast, still turning his back, was cast into the water. Augustus Rookwood was pushed back into the boat.

"Fuck!" cursed Harry. This was not at all was he had planned, but he reacted nonetheless.

 **Accio Augustus Rookwood**! he yelled, his wand in the air. The body of the man quickly flew across the air, above land and water, and came to hit him with full force. Harry barely managed to dodge thanks to his exceptional Quidditch reflexes.

"What the hell?" Rookwood clearly had no idea what was happening, and Harry would not give him a chance. He punched him in the jaw, twice, to make sure he would be knocked out, briefly losing his cloak in the process. It hurt, the pain jolted through his joins, but he felt the satisfaction on the impact and the sight of a tooth flying off. He grabbed his broom, put his wand back in his pocket, made sure his cloak was still somewhat covering his head, and as he heard Arthur cursing, swimming in the cold waters, and his colleagues trying to react, he apparated away.

* * *

He landed hard on the wooden floor of his "work room". His bones protested and ached at the impact, a couple of muscles probably bruised. Next to him, the muffled sound of the unconscious body hitting the floor resonated between the wall.

"What happened" he thought. "This was supposed to put them to sleep. No blow them into the skies! Fletcher! That goddamn rat, he tricked me, gave me some shitty gear. He will pay for that!"

But maybe he was cheated as well, the black market was not known for the honesty of all its participants. Maybe it was best and safer just to leave him alone. That would anyway be a matter for another time.

He tried to get up, checking the damage on his body and his clothes, when a thought hit him in the face. Arthur. Was he hurt? Did he hurt Mr Weasley?

He focused, tried to remember. He heard him yelling, heard the splashes in the water, of that he was sure. But was it really him? Could it have been one of the other four men? It sounded like his voice, but maybe he was just trying to convince himself. Fear grabbed him by the guts, while the hand of guilt choked him. How could he ever forgive himself if Arthur had anything more than a cold because of the icy waters? It was not, not, not! supposed to go like this! Nobody but the bad guys were supposed to get hurt!

Speaking of bad guys, Rookwood was starting to regain consciousness. Mumbling nonsense through his bleeding mouth, movements restrained by the iron cuffs, his eyes finally opened wide when pain caught up with him.

"Fuck! Fuck! Where am I? Who are?"

He turned around, face against the food, and spat some blood.

"My tooth! You knocked my tooth out!

Harry didn't want to put up with this rambling, so he just stupefied him, knocking him out once again. The room had been prepared, everything was ready already, he just didn't expect to get in here this way.

"Kreacher" he summoned. "Help me put him on the chair, like I told you. Tie him up, like i showed you. Did you send the owl like I asked you to, yesterday?

"Yes Master!"

"Then hurry up. Our guest should arrive soon."


	11. To share the hate

"Soon" turned into almost two hours. It was getting late for lunch, but the stew Harry had prepared could stay warm in the oven for a few more minutes. During the whole time he was preparing the dish, cutting the meat, chopping the onions and garlic, he could only think of the man upstair. The whole room was enchanted of course, and no sound would cross the walls, if they could even break through the gag on his mouth , but he could still imagine them.

He imagined them too much for the fact being, since he stopped his work every other minute, thinking that he had heard something. But it was impossible of course. The stress was pushing him to mistakes, he almost cut himself twice with Ginny's knife. Maybe it was a stupid idea, maybe he should not have done it, and stick with his original plan... But it was the right thing to do, he thought, and this whole plan was about doing the right thing, wasn't it?

Finally, Kreacher entered the kitchen with the awaited guest.

"Master George Weasley", he declared, bowing his head to the floor.

"Oh George! Right on time! Come on in, lunch is ready! Come, have a sit! Kreacher, please set the table!"

"Harry!" George sounded exhausted, as if he had been running. "Sorry I'm late."

He handed his coat over the the elf, who disappear in a *pop* while glasses and knives started floating around to the table.

"I received an owl from mom just before leaving" he resumed. "It seems Dad and his colleagues were attacked during the transport of Rookwood."

"What? What happened? Is your father alright?"

"Yes, yes he is, but two of his coworkers are in St Mungo, one in bad shape, it seems."

Something punched Harry in the guts. He bit his lip, turning his back to his friend, hiding his grimace while serving serving a plate. But at least Arthur was alright, that was a relief.

"Rookwood's gone" said George, bluntly but surprisingly calmly as well. "Somebody took him and disappear. Mom was afraid that he would try to attack me. Like he would show his face on Diagon Alley."

Harry brought the plate to the table, focusing mainly on preventing his hands to shake.

"You seem to take it quite well, I must admit" he questioned while sitting in front on the redhead with his own plate. "Do they already know who did it, maybe?"

The question hung in the air for a second before George sighed heavily, lowering his head between his hands and rubbing his face.

"No they don't. And no, I'm not, Harry. I'm so pissed off, part of me would like to go out right now and hunt him down like a dog. But I'm tired Harry, I'm so tired. The other part of me just want to let that go, let Dad and the Ministry do their job. They will find him, I know Dad and Kingsley will not stop until they do, I trust them on that, but I can't run on hate anymore. I want to leave this all behind, and start appreciating life a bit again, and work peacefully at the shop. I really like it, you know? So I think I will let that second half win, at least for now... I just want to enjoy a good meal with a friend. Home-made meal even, damn that smells good. Although if you don't mind, would you have something to drink?".

"Sure!"

Harry almost jumped out of his chair, way to happy with the change of topic.

"What d'you want? Firewhisky? Some french wine with the dish?"

"You know what? Just some water would be fine. I think I drank more than my yearly share at Christmas..."

Almost disappointed, the young man served his friend, then himself. The cold taste of water was actually very calming, familiar, comforting. Maybe it wasn't such a poor choice after all.

"I have to say, Harry," continued George, "that I was not expecting your invitation. I was glad to accept it, don't get me wrong, but it was kind of out of the blue."

"I know. I was just thinking, after Christmas with your family ... I realized we never really hanged out together, and that it was a real shame, especially with Ron and Hermione down in Australia and Ginny in Hogwarts..."

"So I'm just a third choice?" he chuckled while taking his first bite. "Damn that's very good, man!"

"Thanks. And actually, you were fifth, Luna and Neville were not available."

"You twat!"

"More seriously, you and your brother were always here for me as well, since the very first day. The best friends a man can get, so I thought grabbing a bite together was long overdue.

"Ah shut up man!" he blushed while rubbing the scar of his missing ear. "By the way, your letter mentioned a surprise, but that was rather mysterious!"

"Let's keep that for after the meal, shall we?"

* * *

George laughed heartily during this lunch, to the greatest pleasure of Harry. Maybe he was finally starting to heal, slowly but surely! And he was about to make it all even better! He looked at the clock.

"Alright, now it's time for the surprise. Last Christmas present we may call it. Follow me!"

Big question mark on his friend's look, but George followed him upstair without a word, all the way to the last floor. When Harry stopped in front of a door and invited him in, he was expecting a big box in a gift wrapping. Or maybe Ron and Hermione back from Australia. He expected a lot of things, but not to find a man gagged and tied to a big wooden chair.

"Harry...? What is this? Who is this man?"

"This, my friend, is your gift. George, meet Augustus Rookwood."

The lad looked at George with wide, begging eyes, trying to hurl something through his gag. Maybe he was begging George for help, maybe he was begging for mercy, it was hard to tell. Not that this was the Weasley's focus anyway.

"Harry, I... I... I don't understand. What is this? What he is doing here?"

"This is your vengeance, George. I brought him here so you could get a proper closure. Look."

On a desk, against the wall, was lying a Quidditch bat. One that strangely looked like the one he was wielding as a Beater in Gryffindor's team, with his brother. Harry put in wand next to it, and grabbed it mindlessly. He approached Rookwood, who tried his best to move out of the way, in vain.

In a swift, powerful move, Harry brandished the bat above his head, and smashed it on his prisoner's hand. The crack of the bones resonated through the room, louder than the muffled sounds of the cries of pain.

"Harry! What the fuck are you doing? Stop it!"

Now the young man was confused. Was George trying to protect his brother's murderer?

"This is our justice, George! His sentence for what he did to my friend! To your brother!"

" ARE YOU FUCKING CRAZY?!"

The scream pierced his heart as much as his ears.

"So you're the one who took him this morning? You are the one who attacked my dad?!"

"Now, no, let me explain! I never attacked your father! This was an accident. I didn't know he would be there. And the device was just supposed to put them to sleep! It wasn't supposed to blow all over. I didn't want to harm anyone!"

"Oh, an accident! That's nothing then! You could have killed him, Harry, you could have KILLED. MY. DAD! His colleague is in the coma in St Mungo! The other one was burnt all over his face!"

He looked around as if he was searching for an exit.

" I gotta get out! They are searching for him. I have to tell Dad".

Harry ran after him, tried to stop him, putting his hand on his shoulder.

"George wait! Wait!"

But George turned around violently and pushed him away but both hands. Harry almost fell, a few centimeters away from his captive.

"Get off me! You're fucking mad, Harry! FUCKING MAD! Don't fucking touch me! I'm out of here!"

"Stop, George! Please stop! You can't tell anyone!"

"The hell I can't! You're a bloody psychopath!"

Harry was panicking, he had trouble breathing. Tears almost rose to his eyes, and when George approached the steps of the staircase, he got despaired. He rushed, jumped, and tackled him. It was nothing but a desperate attempt to stop his friend. But what would he do after that?

His arms grabbed George's waist, but the momentum was too strong, and he felt it, he felt the balance being lost and time seemed to freeze when George looked at him in surprise and fear.

They fell. The sound of their bodies on the steps was deafening. Something cracked. They fell. Something hit the wall. They fell. All the way to the bottom. Everything hurt, and finally, silence.

"Fuck" groaned Harry. His hand was very painful, but did not seem to be broken. His back hurt as well, he probably had bruises all over.

"George..?"

No answer. George Weasley was lying on the floor, eyes closed, motionless.

* * *

"Fuck! No no no ! George!"

Harry rushed to his friend, almost tripping over himself.

"George talk to me!"

He put his hand on his throat to check for a pulse. He didn't really know how to properly do it, but he was sure to feel something. His heart seemed to be beating in his chest, and his breath to be perceptible through his nose. Harry allowed himself a quick sigh of relief. He didn't have much time to act.

First, he had to go back upstairs. He legs were hurting at every steps, burning like he had just run a bloody marathon. His wand was still lying on the table, next the bat he had hastily put back before running after George. He did not take the time to spare a look at Rookwood, but if he had, he would have seen the man crying over his broken hand, not even noticing the presence in the room. He did, although, took the time to mentally slap himself about leaving his wand next to a prisoner, no matter how tied up he was. Getting out, he made sure the room was properly locked, and double the sound proofing charm just in case.

Downstairs, George was still in the same exact position he was a minute ago, which was not reassuring. Harry peaked at the clock in the kitchen. Six minutes, only six minutes since he had taken him upstairs.

He focused hard and tried to remember everything that happened during those small six minutes. He pointed his wands towards the redhead's face.

" **Obliviate** "

Nothing seemed to happen, no flashy sparkles, no whiff of wind, but he knew that it worked. Now the only question was, to what extend?

" **Innervate** "

* * *

George jumped out like he had been drawn out of hell.

"Harry!"

He was breathing fast, very fast, his heart could almost be heard from a meter away. The young Potter held his breath, waiting to see if George would try to run away again.

"What happened? My head hurts like hell... Ouch. My knee! I'm bleeding, what the hell?"

"Take it slow, George. Easy. You fell down the stairs, and pretty hard. You hit your head and were out for a minute."

"The stairs? I ... I don't remember anything.."

"Here, let me help you up. Let's lie you down on the sofa."

George limped to it, holding his leg and using Harry's shoulder as a clutch. On the order of his master, Kreacher brought a glass of water.

"I'm sorry" apologized Harry, "Hermione would know the spells to ease your headache, but I'm kind of rusty on my healing spells..."

"Don't worry, I'll do it myself. Fred and I had to learn a lot of them when we were testing stuff for our shop... If I didn't break my wand in the fall, being said."

But he had not. A couple of quick incantations later, he sighed of relief and left himself sunk in the sofa.

"Why were we upstairs?" he finally asked. "I don't even remember going..."

"What's the last thing you remember". Harry's voice had a slight tremble in it. George did not seem to notice.

"Well, we were having lunch, I finished my glass of wine... Then you said something about a last Christmas Present? I'm not sure."

Harry smiled, and mentally congratulated himself. Having a back-up plan was a luxury they could never afford the previous year, all they could do was to improvise. But now he could taste its sweet taste of satisfaction.

"Yeah" he said. " I wanted to show you the room on the second floor, I had it redecorated."

"Okay, but I don't see the link with Christmas..."

"It's for Ron and Hermione. When they come back from Australia, I was thinking that maybe they could come live here with me. If they want to of course. My gift to them. I just wanted to show it to you, see what you think of it."

George chuckled.

"You're asking me for decoration approval? Who do you think I am, Angelina Johnson?"

"Speaking of Angelina , how is she?"

Weasley blushed slightly. Harry's heart was still pounding, seeking the first hint of the hopefully erased memories rushing back to George's mind.

"How the hell would I know?"

"Oh come on! Don't play fool with me. You know I talked to her for your Christmas present, right? She told me you were seeing each other from time to time. And I think she's waiting for nothing but you finally asking her out on a real date."

"You're giving relationship advice now? Who are you and what did you do to the real Harry Potter?"

"Shut up, you know I'm right!"

But his smile had a small hint of sadness in it. He thought of the man upstairs, and asked himself the same question. Where was the Harry that wanted nothing but play Quidditch and laugh with his friends, the Harry who could see nothing but wonders in magic. Did he die with Cedric Diggory? With Sirius? With Fred and Remus? Was he still somehow here, buried under all the responsibilities and duties, hate and pain? George dragged him out of his thoughts.

"I don't know, Harry. I like her, I really do. But I don't feel like dating. I'm am not in the right place for that. She knows it, and so do I. One day maybe."

Harry nodded his understanding.

"So, do you want to see this room?"

"Sure thing! If the stairs let me reach it this time!"

* * *

It was almost five in the afternoon when Harry came back to see his other guest. The man of course had not move, but he had stopped crying. His eyes were still very red, and he looked more tired that ever.

"I'm so sorry, Mr Rookwood" apologized Harry. " Things didn't go as planned earlier, but you have now my undivided attention."

He approached and took the gag of his mouth. It was disgustingly stiffed with dried saliva and tears.

"If you feel like yelling" he said in his ear, "please be my guest. Now there's no one but me to hear you".

But Augustus Rookwood did not yell. He did not begged for help or mercy anymore, he did not asked for water despite being hellishly thirsty. He was simply much too tired for all of this. The pain and the fatigue had dragged all strength out of him. He slowly raised his head toward Harry and whispered, with his raspy and damaged voice:

"What do you want, kid?"

"What I want is simple, Death Eater." Harry went back to the table and grabbed the bat. "Firstly, I want answers. You mentioned to the Ministry that you know of places, safe houses, maybe even secret funds, for the runaway members of your stupid club. I want those information."

Rookwood sighed.

"Well I was already ready to give those away, so I guess that should not be a big problem. What else then?"

"Secondly I want justice and vengeance. Your attack on Hogwarts killed several people very dear to me, and you personally caused the death of a very, very good friend of mine".

His voice was now cold as ice and rough as an unpolished stone. But for the first time, Rookwood offered him his smile. A nasty, disgusting smile where two teeth were missing.

"Oh but that's why I recognized the redhead lad! Weasley! Just like the one they said I killed! Things didn't go as you wished, did they, boy?"

He then added, two tones lower : "They rarely do."

Harry growled and gently tipped the man's knee with the bat. Undisturbed, Augustus continued, grasping for the very last bits of bravado he could find deep within himself.

"The way I see it, boy, there are two things you want from me, but nothing for me in the balance. And considering what happened earlier, we can safely assume that you plan to kill me once you have what you want. So I'm sorry, boy, but I don't think I will tell you anything, so I will at least die with the satisfaction of denying you what you need."

But his voice had no malice, no certainty in it. It felt like the whisper of a dead man, despite the resolution he tried to show. Harry smiled. He expected that much, hell, he hoped that much.

With a large, almost exaggerated swing on the right, he hit the knee on the side, which dislocated immediately with a "pop" sound. Rookwood yelled.

"Shhh" said Harry. "No need to be so dramatic, it's not broken, just dislocated. I mean, I think, I'm no Healer..."

He lifted the bat above this head, this time, and smashed it down on the same knee. Rookwood yelled twice as hard.

"I'm still no Healer, but I think that this time, it's broken. But better make sure, don't you think?"

He smashed it again. Shard of bones were now peaking through the thin skin of the knee, as tears of pain were rolling down the victim's cheeks like tsunamis. It was the first time that Harry had an actual murderer in his power. Parkinson, Bulstrode, they were dangerous people, bad people, but none of them had actually killed any of his friend, at least that he knew of. Rookwood had killed Fred. Murdered him with an explosive spell. This was the reckoning, and it felt good. His cries felt good, the real taste of vengeance felt exquisite.

"Here's where you wrong, you fucking piece of shit. I do have something to offer you. I can make it stop, and offer you a quicker death. You think the Cruciatus curse was bad? Try me. Let's see how you like having your bones shattered one by one. Having them actually breaking and tearing your skin. One by fucking one! So tell me ! Where are the safe houses?! Where is Dolohov?! Tell me!"

He didn't even give him time to answer. He just hit the already injured hand repeatedly, violently, until is was nothing but a shapeless, deformed heap of flesh, blood and bones. The red fluid was soiling the floor, drop by drop. The magically fastened wooden chair hadn't bulged the slightest, despite Rookwood's best effort to try and dodge his retribution.

"Stop! I'll tell you!" he screamed. "Please stop, for the love of god, please no more. No more."

He sobbed like a little kid after a nightmare, and Harry was disappointed his bravery didn't last longer. One more hit on the shin bone on the yet untouched leg, and he spilled the list faster that Hermione would recite the answer to a quiz test. He sadly didn't seem to know a thing about Dolohov, Remus's killer.

"You see? Not that hard. But damn all that brave talk for nothing... I guess you fuckers are all the same, big mouth and nothing else. Now, how do you enter these houses?"

"The mark! You need the mark! Our master's dark mark!"

"Hum, that's rather inconvenient! But smart, I admit! So you're saying that I need you?"

But Rookwood could not even answer to that, the agony choking the next words in his throat. Harry faked a thinking pout.

"The way I see it, BOY... I only need your arm. Yes, I think that should do the trick, and if it doesn't, I'll find another way."

Rookwood's eyes widened for a second, before closing in another wave of tear, understanding fully well what was coming. It seemed that his executioner was not planning to keep is word and let him off easily.

Harry had him paralyzed with the Petrificus Totalus spell, his left arm raised on the side with the bloody hand almost detaching itself.

"Let me get my wand, and we'll give you a taste of your own kind of magic. One created by your very good friend, Severus Snape. Did you know that he was actually working for Dumbledore? A triple agent, nothing less. I learnt this spell in one of his old school book. I think you will like it."

He aimed for the elbow and yelled : **Sectumsempra**!

Tendons were severed instantly. He felt the dark magic slicing through his flesh. When would it stop? The paralysis spell was still keeping his arm up, but wa in no way altering the pain.

"Well, that seems like a good start." muttered Harry almost for himself. The anger, the hate, all of it just erased all thoughts of mercy and compassion, those qualities Dumbledore was foolishly praising him for. "But it feels almost too easy. Let's take our time shall we?"

When Harry lifted the bat above his head, Rookwood started thinking that maybe the Dementor's kiss would have maybe been nicer.

When Harry hit the elbow for the fifth time and his arm finally fell to the floor, broken and torn, he knew for sure that it would have been a kinder fate. Sometimes the agony would be such that his brain would briefly shut down and drag him to limbos, where random questions would come to his mind. When was the last time he ate bacon? How does the stars look from up close? How did he kill that young redhead again? He could remember nothing but being scared in that godforsaken school that he had always hated, throwing random spells around to discourage anyone from approaching him.

When he had finally cried all the tears he had, the young man stood behind him, and Rookwood felt the damaged, bloody piece of wood brushing the back of his head, he thought:

"Finally."

And when Harry swung the bat like if was the most important Bludger of his life, he didn't think anything, anymore.

* * *

The search for the escaped Death Eater did not last long. Because Arthur Weasley was thinking that he would have to hunt his son's murderer to the end of the earth, he felt an immense, incredible wave of relief and satisfaction when he was told that Rookwood had been found.

The satisfaction turned into horror, and questions, when he was explained that, actually, the only thing they found was his damaged, bloody head, left very early in the morning on the steps of the Gringotts Bank.


	12. Breathe

Harry was pissed off. Really, really pissed off. Despite the charms on his coat and boots, he was still soaked to his bones. The cold, infiltrating rain of March was getting to his nerves more than ever before. It was just the rotten cherry on the crap cake.

It had been more than two months since the blood of Rookwood had stained the Quidditch bat in his murder room. He had spent weeks scouting the countryside of England, searching for the safe houses listed by his now-dead source.

Finding them was not the hardest part. It took time obviously, because, of course, Rookwood didn't know the exact addresses of those ones, only the names of the villages or town, the streets at the very best, but never more. So he searched, scouted, and in the end, found them without much troubles. It was always the most secluded houses, the ones furthest away from the rest, of course as hidden from the muggle world as possible.

Getting inside was not the hard part. The doors always remained closed, looking by the windows gave nothing but the view of dusty, empty and abandoned rooms. Harry had to found the proper way to use the arm and its mark. He actually ended up finding carved figures of snakes, big as a thumb, on stones near the front doors. The mark recognized, the spells would be lifted, and the locks would open.

Keeping the dead arm from rotting wasn't the hardest part either! A cooling charm did the trick for a bit, but the smell arrived quickly, and with it the greenish color of death. It took him a full day of research back at Oxford, but he finally found the spell to freeze it, and the one to make it permanent. It would just leave cold, almost unbearable to the touch, even through the fabric of the leather bag he'd carried with him. Sometimes, not having Hermione with him was tougher than he would like to admit.

The hardest part, the one who made him pull his hair from his head, was to eventually find those houses empty. Once the protective spells lifted with the mark, the furniture would appear, a fire would start burning in the chimney, the cold air would turn slightly warmer, and dim light would start to shine. But it would all be free of any human presence, or Portkeys, as far as his detection spells would tell. He would spend hours searching through every desk, every shelves, in every corners, hoping for the smallest shred of clue. But he would find nothing. The whereabouts of Dolohov, or any other Death Eater outside of Azkaban would continue to elude him.

Back in London, Harry almost kicked the door of his apartment of Square Grimmauld. If Kreacher were to stood behind it, it would have been cast through the hallway. He let his drenched coat fall to the floor, knowing the elf would pick it up and dry it soon. It was the sixth safe house that his had visited in that many weeks, and it was always, always the same godforsaken result. There were only two more on the list of Rookwood, further up north in Scotland, and Harry believed that they would show no different outcome. He would have to try anyway, of course, but his mind was rather pessimistic.

"Kreacher?" he yelled.

"Yes master?" answered the servant after the usual "pop" sound of his appearance.

"My clothes need drying. So does my coat other there. See to it, and then prepare me a glass of Firewhisky."

" Of course, Master!".

It took Harry only half a second to regret his words. He would have never dared speak to Dobby like that. Hermione would have slapped him for speaking like that. But his bad mood and his anger had taken over for a brief moment. Some days, specially the bad ones like this one, he really missed the long-eared bastard. More than he would have believed.

"Master" declared Kreacher, pulling him out of his thoughts. "You have unexpected guests. They are waiting for you in living room. Kreacher believed that their presence would please Master, so Kreacher let them him. Kreacher hopes he did right."

To the brief interrogation followed a flash of hope and happiness, then a quick panic. He kneeled down to his elf, and whispered.

"Take this leather bag to my room on the last floor. Close the door on your way out, make sure no ones but me can come in. Do it now, before everything else. Hurry!"

With a respectful nod, Kreacher told the cold leather sash, and disappeared. Relief, at least partially, Harry headed for the living room, wondering who would be there, not daring to hope to much. His head expected Angelina and George, after the drinking night they had four weeks before. His heart was hoping for some Australian exiles. Some other parts of him, for Ginny, who he missed dearly, despite the recent Hogsmeade meeting.

"SURPRISE!" he heard.

He jumped, startled, hands on his wand.

* * *

"Hoy mate! How twitchy! What kind of hospitality is that, to draw your wand on your old friends?"

Harry did not answered, he just jumped on Ron, crushing him in his arms. Although, quite quickly, it felt like he was the one being crushed. Ron seemed... larger. Stronger.

"Argh, let me breathe, Weasley! What kind of guest are you, to choke your host like that?"

Ron laughed loudly, warmly. Next to him, Hermione chuckled.

"It's nice to see you, Harry. We missed you."

He left Ron's arm only to get Hermione's in his own. She smelled like rain, and he gave in so much into her hug that he almost wanted cry. The cold, the anger and the disappointment of the past months seemed to almost vanish in a second, lifting a big burden of his shoulder, and the newly-found breath brought him tears.

"Hey mate! Don't get all emotional on us!" teased Ron, with a slap on his back.

"Shut up, you moron! I missed her too!"

"What are you doing here?" he added when he finally let her go. "Why didn't you send an owl? When did you arrive anyway?"

Ron sat back on the couch, grabbed his half-drunk glass of Firewhisky. Quietly, more than she usual was, Hermione sat next to him.

"We arrived yesterday evening. Went straight to my parents to get a bit of sleep. We wanted to surprise you of course! But we were not expecting to have to wait your for two hours!"

"That will teach you to come unannounced! You're lucky that Kreacher even let you in ! You even raided my stash, you ungrateful twat! "

But his smile never left his lips, as he insulted his best friend. He went to serve himself a drink, and fell heavily in his chair. That felt really good. The heat from the fire was a caress on his skin. He looked at Hermione straight in the eyes for a second. Her smile was radiant. She seemed like a whole new person, with her skin tanned. Her hair were longer than ever, proof that she did not cut them, even in the heat of Australia. The slight freckles of her cheeks had taken a new color under the sun and for some reason, she seemed taller. Prettier.

"What were you doing out by this shitty weather anyway?" asked Ron.

"Who the hell cares about what I was doing?" dismissed Harry. " You are the ones who need to tell me everything! How was Australia? How are your parents, 'Mione?"

She smiled again, but sighed at the same time. A hint of sadness flashed through her eyes, but didn't stay long.

"They're fine. We finally got a their memories restored! It took three more weeks, after Christmas, but they are finally back to normal!"

"That's great to hear! I'm so relieved for you, Hermione!" He took the bait, though. "But then why are you back only now then? Something wrong?"

"No, not really. They just... didn't want to come back. They loved their life over there too much."

Ron put his hand on her shoulder, with a friendly smile.

" 'Mione didn't to leave right away, since well... you know. Hard year that we just went through. So we stayed a bit, so she could spend some time with them. T'was hard to convince her to come back."

"It's not like we were missing this stupid rain!" she muttered.

"Speak for yourself! I got so many sunburns in six months that I shed skin more times that fucking Nagini!"

Harry hid his wincing with a forced laugh. He leaned forward, stuck in gaze into his friend's eyes, and asked again.

"How are they, Hermione?"

"They're fine! Just.. shaken up by all the revelations... It was a lot to take in, when they finally recovered their memories and we had to explain everything that happened. The war. The year on the run. The death of Fred and the others..."

"She didn't want to lie to them" added Ron. " Which I support! Don't look at me like that ! I agreed with you! But yeah, safe to say they were not too happy about it... They blamed 'Mione pretty hard for sending them away..."

"It took a while to get them to understand, and more to forgive me... But I guess it could have been much much worse in the end. They're fine, happy in Australia, and should visit us here sometime soon. Hopefully."

Ron shifted his hand from her shoulder to her thigh, and grabbed her hand between his fingers. Harry noticed the move, thought that his friend might had finally picked up a couple of things about being a good boyfriend. Maybe he could give out some advices...

"They'll come around" he said. "Your father can't stay mad at you for long, you know it."

She approved with yet another smile.

"What about you, Harry?" she asked, hopeful to change subject. " How are you doing? Arthur told us that you haven't been applying for jobs yet, nor have you met the new Head of the DMLE as he offered."

Harry brushed off the word with a wave of his hand.

"Baaah. Nothing hurries. We've had enough excitement for a lifetime, and to be honest, I also have the money for it. So what's the rush? I've been doing exactly what I said I'd do. I traveled. Visited places, mostly on the coasts, see the seas. Basically, wherever my broom takes me. I'm just waiting for Ginny to start visiting other countries. Cross the ocean, maybe. Go to France. To bloody Spain, i don't know. I just don't want to commit to anything for now. Or anyone."

He then lowered his voice, and added :

"We already did that, way to often..."

"Are you sure? I mean, Harry... Are you sure you are doing alright? People are worried about you... "

Harry gave her a dark look, but she did not stop. "Molly also said that you seemed to be drinking often, if not a lot." She pointed at the almost empty glass of whisky. "You know, you don't have to be drunk every day to be, erm... alcoholic."

"Come on' Hermione!" scowled Ron. "Give him a break."

But it was too late. A cold anger had risen his Harry's throat, and when he fixed his eyes into hers once again, she didn't see any traces of the brotherly love that he had shown before. They were nothing but two green pits of rage.

"I am not in mood for a lecture, Hermione! You have no right to say a bloody word about this". He did not raise his voice at all, tried hard not to sound to harsh on his bitty comeback. "I was, and still am, really, really happy to have you back here, so I don't want to argue and fight. But let me tell you this. You left me! For six months! Don't get me wrong, I understand why, but you were gone, Ginny was at Hogwarts, Luna and Neville busy with studies and jobs and everything. So you don't get to lecture me."

"But we're worried..."

"Hermione, that's enough." cut Ron. Both her and Harry were surprised. His voice was calm, but powerful. He added :

"Harry's right. We've just come back. We've literally been on the other side of the world for half a year, let's not pretend that we know how things are, back there. Harry's our friend, and he knows that he can talk to us if he needs to. In the meantime, let's give hive some space, and just enjoy the evening!".

A smile shyly came back onto Harry's lips. Since when was Ron the most adult of the three? Hermione also proved her maturity.

"Alright. I'm sorry, Harry. that was over the line."

"Nevermind. It's already forgotten. Tell me about Australia instead! What does it look like? Is it really that hot?"

The discussion and the laughs carried on until well into the night, until after the dinner hastily prepared by Kreacher, until after Harry showed them the room he had prepared for them, until after the bottle of Firewhisky was gone, fairly split between all the three of them.

"Alright boys" finally spoke Hermione, tipsy if not slightly drunk. "I will go to bed now. I am tired."

Harry quickly turned his eyes away to give them a bit of privacy as they longly kissed. It had been a long time since he had last seem them as a couple, and despite his happiness for both of them, still felt slightly awkward in front of their displays of affection.

"I shall join you in a minute."

Hermione left for the stairs, with a last smiling look at Harry.

As soon as she was gone, Ron turned back to his friend, his eyes now serious despite the alcohol altering his thoughts.

"Listen mate. I know that I said we should give you space. But, hear me out" he added when Harry tensed on his seat. "I talked to George yesterday. Yes, he was at the Burrows. 'Mione was not there, so she did not hear. But he told me all about that night at Hogsmeade. Your fight with Marcus Flint, or more accurately, how you bashed is head in."

"Bastard deserved it."

"I'm sure he did, and I won't cry on his behalf, rest assured. Look, Hermione don't like to hear about it, but there's no denying that I was in a dark place, during the first months in Australia. The death of Fred, having to leave George alone... I was in a foul mood, all the time. Even got into a fight or two with some Muggles who were too stupid for their own good. I was so angry, every minute of every day. I wanted to spill blood, to a point where I saw even Hermione as an enemy. Things were not good between us. But we talked this through. And she really helped me. She saved me, Harry. Saved me from myself. I won't say that I don't have any bad days anymore, but it's never as bad. My point is, if you need to talk, I'm here. 'Mione is here. I'm sure Ginny is as well. You don't have to go through this alone."

"I know mate" he answered with a smile. But he knew that he would never make the mistake of sharing anything about his current thoughts and plans with anyone. If George reacted this badly, it could only be worse with Ron, or Hermione. But the red head was not finished yet.

"My other point is, that you should be careful about not making an enemy out of Ginny. I know my sister, she's not as forgiving as Hermione. And you would have to answer to all of her brothers as well, me included."

Harry laughed.

"You're threatening me now? Did Australia's sun fried your brain?"

"I'm serious mate! What I heard scared me. That did not sound like you, at all. That scared me enough to not mention it to 'Mione... I know how anger and rage can suddenly take over... And I know you do too, considering how you dealt with the Slytherin scumbag. But you cannot allow it to happen with my sister. I mean it!"

Harry sighed, his laugh now gone.

"I know, Ron. Trust me, I know...Thanks for caring."

"Always, Harry. And I want you to know... I'm sorry for leaving you. Again, that's twice in twelve month, and even if it was for good reasons this time... I'm sorry nonetheless."

Harry chose not to answer, there was not much to say. He understood. It barely helped with his resentment, but he understood. He got up and stretched, then left the room with just a friendly tap on his friend's shoulder.

The last thing Harry thought of before falling asleep, was that the room above him was now unusable. He would have to find another place to work, and bring prisoners.

* * *

During the following days, Harry felt happier, lighter than he had felt for weeks, if not months. He almost felt guilty to feel this way without Ginny. She was supposed to be his light in the dark, his bowl of fresh air, but this role was now occupied by Ron and Hermione. Not that she would have complained anyway, of course, she was way too perfect for this petty behavior, or so Harry was sure of.

They ate at the Burrows quite often now, Ron torn up between his desire to spend time with his family, and the fact that Harry's homecooking became pretty good.

"Damn" he one day said. "To think that you were the worst potion brewer ever! How did you become so good of a cook?"

"Let's not forget that he passed his Potion OWL with an E."

"Thank you, Hermione." smirked Harry. "That is just one more proof, if we ever needed one, that the problem was Snape."

"Who ever thought that I'd miss the bastard..." sighed Ron.

A heavy silence settled in the kitchen room, as only the sound the chopping knife resonated in their ears.

* * *

One evening at the Burrows, Harry's heart almost jumped out of his chest when Ron finally brought up the so-feared topic of Augustus Rookwood.

"So, still no news about Rookwood's killer?" he asked. "Or the ones who took him from you?"

"Nothing no. The Minister is tempted to stop the investigations, as it's leading to nothing."

"Nothing, really?" asked Harry, hopeful. "No clues, no leads?"

"Not really. We think it's a single man who attacked us, most likely the same who killed him, driven by revenge. Probably a poor folk who lost someone to the war."

"But you were attacked!" protested Hermione.

"I don't think that was the intention" sighed Arthur. The device we found at the scene was a Sleep Bomb, a defective one. The explosion was not part of the plan, I believe. And our men are fully recovered by now."

Hermione grunted, which was unlike her.

"Yes, if Sleep Bombs are out on the market, especially explosive ones, that would be very concerning. But no other case have been reported so far, and none of our investigations have given us its maker, even less its buyer."

"I say that lad made us a solid" spoke Ron while putting another full spoon in his mouth. "I like these bastard better in the ground than in Azkaban."

"Ron!" hurled his mother. "You will not speak like that! We should never rejoice of the death of a man. It will never bring any of our loved ones back, it will only tarnish their memory!"

"Sorry Mom. You're right."

Harry chose to say nothing. Safer that way.

* * *

It did not take long however for Harry to be alone again. Ron quickly decided to go and help his older brother at the shop on a daily basis. Hermione, true to her oneself, had already started writing and sending dozens of letters to find a potential carreer path, or an internship, not to mention the piles of books she was ingurgitating.

"I'm in touch with Headmistress McGonagall" she explained. "I am trying to figure out whether the best thing is to find an internship at the Ministry, or go back to school for a seventh year."

Ron almost choked on his morning coffee.

"What? What? Seriously? Where is this coming from?"

Harry smiled. He knew that not completing her education was hard on Hermione. Even if she never said a thing during those dark weeks they spent alone together on the run, he sometimes noticed it in her face. Hidden behind the pain, the fear, the stress, was regret. It would have probably sound selfish, out of place, and so she had kept it inside, but now that the war was over, of course she would try to get a new chance at a normal life.

"I want to pass my NEWTs" she muttered. "They took that away from me... I want it back."

Ron stayed silent for a while, then offered his own smile in return.

"Sure, love. I understand." Then, more seriously. " Although if you do, I think you will have to go without me."

He could not explain why, as the words were stuck in his throat, but they all knew his reasons. And Hermione was not expecting him too. His love for books and studies was always very... limited.

Three days later, she was about to leave for Scotland for a couple of days, to meet and discuss with Hogwarts Headmistress face to face. Ron would be spending this time with George for the Easter's inventory.

Finally, Harry had some time to resume his hunt. He took a deep breath, as the early spring sun was barely risen behind the horizon. He has two places left to check, and if Lady Luck would be so kind, this time they would be fruitful.


	13. Lady Luck

Hermione had left a day earlier, and as he was headed toward the same lands, Harry was nervous they might cross path, something he would have a hard time to explain. It would be a rather unlikely fate, Scotland was big enough for the two of them, but he could not help it.

Harry was headed toward Bamburgh, North-East coast of Northumbria. From what he knew, the place was rather famous for a big medieval castle, seemingly as old as Hogwarts if not more, but the village around was too small to be called just that. The number of houses was smaller than the number of desks in the smallest classroom of his old school, but it was still a touristic place.

The trip took him more than half the day, as he took his time to appreciate the flight and do as many pauses as necessary. Spring was early, but the weather difference since his last hunt was just night and day. When the castle was finally within his sight, it was almost three in the afternoon, and the roads around were filled with muggles car.

He landed quietly, far from the activity of the place, and hid the broom in his Extended pouch, alongside his cloak, Ginny's knife in its box, and a couple of other items, just in case. He would walk for the rest of the trip, which would be short enough. According to its intel, the house would be at the end of the road that went near the beach, to the lighthouse. Further down the path was a cottage filled with tourists, and a bit further, he was to search for old farm. Behind it was a storage cabin, which was actually nothing else than an illusion to hide the small stone house where Death Eaters could come and hide.

The path was pleasant to Harry. The castle was no Hogwarts, but impressively huge for something this old, built without any magic (at least, that he knew of). The sand beach looked almost too exotic for this part of Europe, and the sea was shining under the sun. It was truly a beautiful day, almost too beautiful to be real, and Harry was torn between a hopeful feeling, and suspicion. Such a perfect weather was suspicious for Britain in itself. That he found the place, all according to Rookwood's description, without having to search for two minutes, was even more suspicious. For all other places, the directions he had were never that precise, and when it was almost as specific, finding the mark on the stones was the tricky part. But not this time. It was clearly visible, engraved in a piece of wood ten centimeters away from the cabin's door handle. Harry took out the icy piece of flesh, planted the mark against the wood.

The cabin stretched, both in height and in length. A second floor appeared out of nowhere, as it usually worked with magic. The door doubled in size. After a couple of seconds, the gardening stool storage had turned into a small house. The first floor, however, had no windows, at least not on this side, and Harry could not see anything through the ones above, as he was too low. He chose not to open the door first, as a precaution, and inspected the house, crouched, just in case.

The precaution paid off, when he reached the other side of the house, facing south, and found himself just under a big window, barely under the light of sight. A couple of step back, hidden behind a small bush, and he could look through it rather safely.

His heart jumped in his chest. A shadow. A movement. Someone was in there.

He wanted to screamed his joy, yell "finally" to the blue sky. But it was, first, too early to scream for victory, and secondly, things would be harder this moment forward. He took his wand of his pocket, this only thing that was not in the bag, and pointed it at the house.

**"Hominum Revelio"**

One person.

**"Vectura Revelio"**

Nothing.

That was good. Now the plan Harry had in mind was rather simple: blast the door, use the advantage of surprise, paralyze the target. It's only just seconds before exploding the said door that he changed his mind. Instead, he took the Cloak of his purse, and covered himself.

The mark had opened the door, same as all the other houses. He grabbed the knob and slowly, very, very slowly, turned it clockwise. He pushed the door, centimeter by centimeter, expecting at any second to face an opposition, which never came. Instead, he just heard a male voice yelling:

"Dolohov? You back yet? Got the chips?"

Harry's mind both rushed and froze at the same time. There was two information to process immediately. No, three. The first one, that he had finally found Dolohov. Remus's killer. The second, that he was out and would be back very soon, which meant he had found not one, but two Eaters. And lastly, that he knew this voice, from somewhere, but he could not place it.

He closed the door behind him, swiftly but silently, careful not to drop his cloak. From his spot, he did not see much, only the staircase, and the short hallway that would lead to the living room where he saw the shadow, but he spotted only an empty chair in the frame. He approached, slowly.

Just when he was about to enter the living room, a massive shape appeared just before him. It took him by surprise so much that he bit his lip not to scream, and almost fell back.

"Dolohov?"

The man looked around, puzzled, seeing nothing.

"Dolohov, you there?" he repeated. But the silence was his only answer, as Harry was staring at him from barely thirty centimeters away, invisible under his cloak.

Gregory, Fucking, Goyle.

The bastard goon of Malfoy, widow of his partner Crabbe, fatter than ever despite being on the run, was standing in front of him, bits of chips on his lips. And the asshat was expecting some more... Harry could not believe his luck.

Goyle was of course on his list, always had been, but never a target of importance. Harry always thought that he was too stupid for to be worthy of interest, if he was honest with himself. Next to Malfoy, he was just a dog, and do you really punish an obedient dog for the foolish orders of him cursed master?

But now that he had him at his mercy, he would not let that chance go. His wand felt twitchy between his fingers, and he saw no reasons not use it.

"Stupefy" he yelled as he took his cloak off.

Goyle barely widened his eyes in surprise before falling on the floor with a very, very loud thud.

The rest of the operation would be simple enough. Harry conjured the curtains into a thick, solid rope, and tied him tight. He gagged the unconscious young man with a napkin, and dragged the body to the hidden corner of the kitchen with the levitation spell. Now all was left to do was to wait for the second Death Eater to come back.

Weirdly enough the waiting was rather long. By Harry's count, it was at least one hour. He remained hidden in the living room, hidden under his cloak, stunning Goyles twice more when the body was starting to move and grunting voice were escaping the gag.

Finally, the door opened, almost violently.

"Fucking muggles and their stupid money. What the fuck is even a credit card... Goyle! Where you at? I hoped you scrub the whole bloody place like I ordered you to, you fat twig! By Merlin's balls, if only we could just conjure food... GOYLE!"

He entered the room like a storm, throwing the plastic bags on the table. A roll of chips even fell on the floor. He looked out, seemingly surprise to not hear any answer back, and not to see any movement.

"Goyle?"

Harry did not wait any second more. He aimed, and simply, calmly, said:

"Pertrificus Totalus".

Dolohov fell on the ground the same way Gregory Doyle had done before. The face of Lupin quickly flashed before the young man's eyes. Harry thought of him, of Tonks. He heard the baby screams of Teddy in the back of his mind, when he was giggling on his grandmother's knees at Christmas. The rage in his heart was very much present and alive. But this time, he would not take the time to make him suffer, as he did with Rookwood. He knew it was too risky, he knew he could not handle two prisoners without some risks. No point playing with fire more than needed.

So he reached for his pouch, search through it elbow-deep, and got his knife out. His beautiful, shiny, and sharp Japanese knife. A prized possession now, really, as was his old Nimbus, or his Firebolt. He did not even think, did not second-guessed himself, he just acted. With almost no sound, the blade slit through the flesh of the paralyzed, but very much conscious, victim. As the blood poured out of his throat, Harry looked him deep in the eyes, trying to find, maybe remorse, maybe understanding, but at the very least pain and panic as the life fled his body through the sliced jugular. It took half a minute, but it was a very, very satisfying one.

He did not even bother cleaning up the blood from the floor, it would actually serve him more this way. He put Goyle on a chair, same way he had done with Rookwood, and tied him up just as good, although this chair would probably break if the fat bastard tried to fight. He was also not absolutely sure that this transfigured rope would held very well, but he was confident enough in his abilities to put the Slytherin right back in if he tried something he should not.

Once Goyle was all setup, facing the bloody cadaver, just a meter from it, Harry used the spell to bring him back to the land of the living.

"Hey, Goyle" he started. "Nice to see you again. It's been a while, I recon".

One could tell that Gregory Goyle had no bloody clue what was happening. He looked at Potter the same way he used to look at the teachers when they were vainly trying to explain something remotely complex.

"Po...Potter? What? What's going on?"

His voice was hesitating, almost childish, quite different from the tone Harry used to know him for when he was playing bully. It took the young man several seconds to understand that he was tied.

"What the hell? Why am I tied? Help me Potter, I can't get it off!"

Harry was surprised. Goyle sounded like they used to be old friend, his plea for help sounded sincere, like he himself would ask Hermione for help with homework.

Then only he noticed the body in front of him. Harry still hadn't moved nor say a word. Suddenly his captive twisted himself like a maniac, trying to break away from his ties.

"Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!"

The chair started squeaking dangerously. Harry finally acted, putting the tip of his wand against Goyle's throat, knowing full well it would scare him way more than a knife. He stopped moving, stopped yelling. Finally silent, he looked his old schoolmate with a tear in his left eye.

"You did that, he Potter? That's your doing? Like you did Rookwood? We saw the papers."

"Damn, Goyle! You keep surprising me! Did you find yourself a brain since we last saw each other?"

He answered nothing, just looked back at the corpse. He sniffed his runny nose, and took a deep breath.

"Do it then! Slice me throat like you did him."

Harry laughed, tried to show his best grin. But he has troubles keeping his surprise inside, Goyle was not supposed to the kind of guy brave before death.

"Calm down, Goyle. If I wanted you dead, you'd be dead. You're much more useful to me alive."

A light of hope lit in his eyes, his breath became slightly steadier. Harry didn't want to give him enough time to think, though.

"I need you to tell me everything you know about all the other Death Eaters. Where they are, how to find them, to contact them."

Tears came back quickly, but he held them in.

"Fuck Potter, I'd tell ya, but I don't know crap. This was the only house I know. Dolohov was already here. I had no clue about Rookwood before the papers.. Me dad's in jail. Got no mom no more."

An idea sparked in Harry's mind.

"Your father's in Azkaban?"

"Yeah, like the others. Ain't like I could sent him no owl, isn't it?

"No I guess not.. What about Malfoy?"

Goyle hesitated a second.

"What about him?"

"Neither Draco nor his father are in Azkaban. They are on house arrest in their manor. I've only been there once, and it was not the most pleasant experience. Tell me everything you know about the place. How to get in. Security system. Their habits. What they like to eat for fucking dinner!"

The ex-goon look surprised.

"What? You think he invited me for fucking sleepover in the summer?"

Harry let the beginning of anger in his veins take over and push his wand deeper against his throat.

"Maybe you're not that useful in the end..." he growled.

"Wait! Okay okay... You can go through the main gates showing the Dark Mark. The gates will open, but they will know who goes through. It's like, super heavily enchanted. Goblin shit, destroy any disguise, Draco told me. Super expensive, of course."

"Yes of course... Any secret passage, access from outside undetected?"

Goyle shook his head.

"Nah. Nothing that I know."

"Fuck."

Harry was pissed. His lack of means to get to Malfoy was getting on his system, even after finding his closest ally, for lack of friends. But the train of thoughts actually brought an idea to his mind. Malfoy never had any friends. He had servants.

"House elves?" he asked. "Do they have any?"

Once again, Goyle looked down and shook his bubbly head.

'I dunno. Last I know, they still hadn't when they had the Dark Lord at the manor."

"They never replaced Dobby?" Harry actually sounded surprised. To think the Malfoy had to live without a servant for years was a strange thought, though a pleasant one.

Goyle looked up and showed a snarky smile.

"What dyou think? That you can buy some at Diagon Alley? House-elves take years to bind them to a House service. Can't do that easily. They just had an old man doing the housework instead, but the Dark Lord killed him soon after Christmas, Draco told us."

"So it's just them in the house?"

After a second, the tied boy spat on the floor.

"Bloody Hell, Potter, I haven't seen them since I fled Hogwarts fucking months ago? How the bloody fuck am I supposed to know?"

In a flash, Harry decided it was enough insolence and slapped him right in the face, slightly hurting his palm against a teeth. Goyle actually looked surprised, or more in shock, by what just happened.

"Keep it down, you fat fuck." Harry's voice was barely more than a growl. "You don't get to raise your voice. You don't get to talk back, you don't get to speak your fucking mind. The only thing you can do, and I do mean, the ONLY thing, is to answer my questions to the very best of your capability. Do you understand?"

Goyle seemed to hesitate for a second between obeying, which was almost a second nature, and calling a bluff. He finally decided to give in to the fear, and lowered his face, admtting his compliance.

"Now, if there's nothing more to say about the Malfoys, let's talk about your father."

"Me father?" His voice was now trembling a little. "I haven't seen him since the battle as well... I just know he's in Azkaban, that's all I saw in the papers."

"Have you tried contacting him?"

"Are you m... No I haven't. Too risky."

"Is there any way to contact him? Lawyer, maybe?"

Goyle was about to answer by a negative as well when he stopped. His breath hung for half a second, then he sighed, heavily.

"Got no idea what a Lawyer is. But Aurors in charge get to talk to with inmates, I think. Dolohov spoke about bribing one to get a message in, but we never did it. Or the guards of Azkaban, of course, but well..."

"Goyle, you're an actual genius."

He barely flinched at the irony.

"Okay, well, I guess we're done here then."

For a brief moment, a glimmer of hope battled the fear in his eyes, but quickly disappeared when Harry took grave the knife back from the table.

"Put your hand on the handle, flat."

Goyle shook his head from side to side, vividly.

"Come on, don't make me fucking Imperius you. Get your bloody hand here."

Reluctantly, slowly, the captive obeyed. Harry got his wand, and murmured:

"Pertrificus Totalus". What a handy spell, really.

Terror submerged Goyle like the tide would the beach. He thought his time was up, and to his opinion, it was way too early. Sadly, he was wrong. Or, at least, wrong by a couple of minutes. Instead of going for his throat like he had done with Dolohov, Harry got the knife to his middle finger.

The blade was sharp, no doubt, and of good quality, no doubt either. Still, it took quite some time to separate this finger from the hand. During each agonizing second, Goyle wanted to scream, beg for mercy, yell for help, but his mouth would never open. The only movement would be tears running down his big cheeks.

When his was finally down, Harry breathed hard, like he had been running.

"Damn that's more work than anticipated. But you know, Goyle, I'm going to teach you something. Better be safe, and take a spare when you can."

The nightmare started all over again for the poor Slytherin, and ended only with his throat slit open without any additional word from him or Harry.

In the end, the fingers would end up frozen, next to the dead man's arm. The bodies would be dumped with the Inferi and the Bulstrode's women. As for the blood on the floor, well, there was an easy spell to just make it vanish.

Harry was sitting in his couch, looking pensively at his half-emptied glass of whiskey. He kept thinking about what Hermione had said and maybe she was right. For months, he had felt as the alcohol was a reward, like the scars on his body and mind were proof that he was adult enough to enjoy it. In a way, it also felt like it was bringing him closer to Sirius. Maybe to his father too. Because it's something they would do together, right? Having a drink together at the end of a hard day...

Also, his frustration was only growing stronger, and the fire in his throat was the only thing calming his nerves.

The idea that Goyle unknowingly gave him was actually proving to be not so genius after all. In his mind, it felt simple: impersonating an Auror, go to Azkaban, ask to interrogate Goyle Senior, and give his message. Finding out an Auror would not be the hardest part by far, he could get a name in half a dozen way.

Getting some hair for the Polyjuice would be slightly risky, but his family cloak would make it easy enough. But then, how would he make sure that the Auror in question would pop in at the most unfortunate time? He would have to take him out temporarily, like they did when they snuck in the Ministry a lifetime ago, or what felt like it, but he was reluctant in attacking an innocent man again, especially from the law enforcement. But he could convinced himself, if nothing else was possible.

And how would he find Azkaban anyway? He was barely able to find the spot where they moved prisoners. Any Auror coming to the prison for interrogation would know the actual way, so the piece would be almost impossible to sell. The more he was thinking about it, the less it seemed plausible... The answered would never appeared in the fire-like liquid at the bottom of his glass.

The front door opened, almost violently, by the sound of it. Harry knew who it was already, and had another glass prepared.

"Holy hell" whined Ron. "I have no idea how George does it! There is STUFF to do! He's all over the place, all the time! He never stops running around, I was tired after just two hours. To think I agreed to go back tomorrow... I wanna punch myself!"

Harry gave him a faint, but warm smile. He knew that George loved drowning himself in work this way. It left less time to think about Fred.

"He's your brother and you love him. You know he appreciates the help. Besides, you know at least two spells for sore feet, so quit whining. Here, take some "special potions"."

He waved his wand, lifting the glass in the air slowly to his friend's hand.

Ron fell loudly into the comfort of the chair and sighed.

"Now I know the House-elves must feel, and I will need to apologize to Hermione about all the teasing and mocking for the S.P.E.W. I felt like a slave, by the end of the day."

Harry tried to hide it the best he could, but a something lit up in his eyes. Like the old "Eureka" lightbulb that would be drawn in muggles comic books. Slaves! That was it! He had dismissed the idea of asking for the help of house-elves and Kreacher, but there was another way to get someone to do the work for him!

"Harry? Harry?" asked Ron.

Potter snapped back and came back to the planet Earth.

"Yeah?"

"You seemed... gone for a second. You good?"

"Yeah, I'm alright, thanks for asking. My day was far from being as exhausting as yours. I'm sorry, I was just thinking about the last time I talked with George and just… disconnected. How is he doing?"

The discussed and played chess through the evening, like they used to at Hogwart, before everything went to hell, bringing Harry back to happier days. However, Harry had trouble focusing, so much stuff and ideas going through his head. Now that Ron had given the lead he needed, his mind would not stop trying to forge the plan. Ron called it off before ten at night to go to sleep, famished as he was, but also slightly annoyed with Harry's inability to do a single smart move on the board.

The preparation unfolded in his head until well in the night, and he finally fell asleep, excited like a kid before Christmas.

* * *

It took Harry ten days to prepare, during which his impatience grew bigger and bigger. He needed to find an Auror working some Death Eater case that was single, or at least lived alone, and with Arthur's once again misguided help, he found it easily enough. He needed to figure out a way to isolate him, which got a bit trickier, but doable nonetheless.

He needed to prepare his message, and this revealed to be harder than anticipated, as he burnt a fourth draft before starting to write a new one.

_"Goyle._

_You have seven days to kill all the Death Eaters in Azkaban. The Carrows. Rowle."_

Harry hesitated, then added: Umbridge. He wondered a bit why he did to put her on his list in the first. Maybe he never saw her as a Death Eater, just a very, very bad person? Or maybe because she didn't kill anyone he knew personally. He could not remember what made him decide to keep her out, but he now was sure that she deserved her spot. He resumed the letter.

_" If I do not learn about your compliance by this day next week, other pieces of your son will follow. If one is missing to the list, pieces of your son will follow. If you speak of this letter to anyone, others pieces of your son will follow. His life is in your hand. And under my blade._

_Seven days."_

He read it again, a couple of times, until he was sure this one was the right one. He carefully folder the letter and put in in the small box he had prepared, along with the cold, dead finger, and a tiny, tiny pocket knife.

Finally, he had to practice the spell. Hermione being back at the apartment, he could not do it at Square Grimmauld. He went out almost everyday, roaming the countryside to find some animals, cows, dogs, even a rabbit once, until he was confident to use it on a human being, a muggle farmer who finished his day more tired than expected. Lestrange was right, you have to want it, to mean it. It was easy to summon this kind of willpower when you hated your target, a lot harder when it was innocent. But by the end of the eight day, he was finally able to use channel his hate of the Death Eaters to use the Imperius on anything, or anyone.

Four days later, as April was close to its end, Oliver Keadrow, 78, recent widower, and close to retirement, was heading out to Azkaban. It has been ages since he went to the prison for the last time, so the Head of Aurors was intrigued by his request, but since Keadrow was part of the Death Eater case team, he agreed to it without more question.

The rain at sea was freezing him to the bones, as he arrived at the front gate of the stone tower, but his resolve did not falter : he had a mission to carry on.

The meeting with Gregory Goyle Senior did not actually bring him any useful information, it was done in barely ten minutes. But the old, bitter man had left shocked, with a small package hidden under his rags. By the time he went back home, Oliver Keadrow could not tell why he went to Azkaban. He knew it was important, but he could not pinpoint what it was. By the next day, he just thought it was all a dream and that he had spent the day sick in bed, something he would have a lot, lot of trouble explaining to his superior.

* * *

**_Bloodbath in Azkaban_ **

_According to a report communicated yesterday by the Ministry of Magic, and the Head of Aurors, several convicted Death Eaters have been found dead in their cells over the past week. Among the dead were listed Thorfinn Rowle and the Carrows Siblings, notoriously known for their former position as teachers in Hogwarts under Headmaster Snape, and the brutality of their punishment._

_It seems their own ways caught up with them as they were found by the guards in the cells with their throats slit._

_Maybe neither the murder weapon nor the killer himself would have ever been found if he didn't try, and succeed, to kill a fourth person in front of two guards and a couple of Dementors. According to the Ministry's statement, as his last victim, Dolores Umbridge, whom all of our readers will surely remember, was lying on the floor bleeding to death, Gregory Goyle Senior was yelling that he didn't have a choice, that he needed to protect his son._

_In a desperate attempt to escape from the Dementor's Kiss, the convict stabbed his own neck with a small pocket knife, undoubtedly smuggled by some unknown ways._

_Investigations are happening as we write these lines to determine how a weapon was smuggled inside the most secure prison of the world, why a Death Eater used it to kill his former partners, or the true meaning of his last words about his son who, if it needs to be reminded, still hasn't been found since he fled Hogwarts after the terrible battle, almost a year ago._

_Some might think that the world is better off with a few less of the Dark's Lord follower, let's not forget that they were sentenced to a lifetime in Azkaban, instead of the Dementor's Kiss, for a reason._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N : Hello everyone ! Sorry it took so long to get this out. As you may know, I am also writing another story (HPxMass Effect) and I also started working a lot on some music production for my Youtube channel, so it took a long time. But I'm not giving up, especially since we're so close to the end ;) A couple more chapters and it will be it, I think.


	14. What he wants

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning : explicit lewd scene in this chapter.

For Harry Potter, spring was a weird balance between growing frustration, and the slow but steady return of happiness. For most of it, he admitted without a second thought, it was thanks to the presence of Hermione and Ron. As they started to develop a new pace together as roommates in his old house, Harry understood that it would be all different from what they knew before. First of all, Hogwarts provided meals, chores were done by House-elves (even though Kreacher was still here to help out, Hermione, and now Ron too, refused to let him do everything), and Ron and Hermione were now a couple sharing the same bedroom. But it all worked out just fine, much better than he would have believed. His friends seemed to have already develop some habits back in Australia, and they kind of just included Harry in it who did not need to say a word. He felt, at first, really awed by how none of the troubles he was expecting between Ron and Hermione were showing, until his best friend explained, one night over a game of chess, that they did have these issues back in Australia, almost from day one, and have already worked they way out of it. The maturity of his redheaded friend was surprising to say the least, but helped out a lot.

Hermione was restless, though. Once she came back from her trip to Hogwarts, satisfied by the outcome of her meeting with Headmistress McGonagall, she could not wait for the next fall without doing nothing. But while she spent most of her time diving into career options, writing letters to potential employers for jobs she would not start before another year, she quickly picked up on Harry unwillingness to discuss the topic. However, his discussions with Ron slowly started to get him out of his professional lethargy. The young Weasley seemed determined to put his notoriety to good use, and join the Auror Training Program as a superstar, despite his girlfriend reminding constantly that they still need to earn their spot fair and square.

"George still needs my help", he once explained, "but I cannot stay with him forever! He will have to hire someone else! He promised me that we look into it this summer. This way, we can apply for a spot in the program right now, so we could start in September when 'Mione's back at school."

The idea had some appeal to Harry, but that meant one thing for him : he would need to be finished with his little side project before then. And this was his biggest source of frustration. His updated list had now only two remaining names : Lucius and Draco Malfoy. The month of May half-way done, and he still had no idea how to approach them. Should he tried to pick them one by one, or try to literally kill two blond birds with one sharp stone. Should he keep trying to find a way in their manor, or lure them out when they're still supposed to be on house arrest?

The other source of his frustration was a pretty redhead known as Ginny Weasley.

* * *

_"Ginny my dear,_

_I hope you are doing okay. It's been more than two weeks without a letter from you. I know, you told me your were drowning in homework and preparation for the NEWTs, and your final match of the year. But we both know the Cup is already won for you, and that you will ace those exams with an arm tied in the back._

_We haven't seen each other since your last match like six weeks ago, and we barely got time to spend together. I miss you. I want to see you._

_I know the year is almost over and I could just wait two more months, but honestly I don't think I can take it, and you will probably see me barge in your classroom with McGonagall trying to stop me. And she won't, ahah._

_If things are as usual, you should have a last trip to Hogsmeade soon, even though you haven't mentioned it yet. If so, could we maybe spent some time together there?_

_Please tell me._

_Love you,_

_Harry."_

* * *

_"Dear Hermione,_

_How are you doing? It was such a pleasure to see you again last month at the game! I missed you guys so much! (Don't go say that to my brother, please!)_

_I am sorry that I didn't write more before, but you know how things are when exams are closing in. And I am every more sorry to write "just" to ask for you help._

_It's about Harry, as you might guess. You always guess everything, anyway. I don't know if you're the best one to ask for relationship advice, since of all the men you could have had, you went for the ugliest of my brothers (it's a joke, don't hex me!), but the only one who knows Harry more than you is Ron, and there's not a chance in the world I'm asking HIM._

_Anyway, jokes and teasing aside, I don't really know what to do. I keep telling him that I'm really busy, but the truth is, I'm just scared and I end up not being brave enough to answer his letter. Way to go for a Gryffindor..._

_I do not doubt my feelings for him, those have been very clear to me since, well, since I'm eleven, and I don't really doubt his feelings for me, so at least that's that, but it's much more subtle and insidious. I just don't know what he wants. He hasn't asked me what I'm planning to do after school. Not once. I don't think for a second that he doesn't care, so maybe he just... hasn't thought about it? I have no idea if he's expecting me to come moving with him or not? Are we supposed to roommates with you? I don't know._

_I know I could just ask him, but that leads me to the next problem, the one I'm really scared of. Even though I should not be, I keep telling myself. What I'm about to tell you, I haven't told anybody just yet. Not Ron, not Harry, not my parents, so please, not a word to anyone for now._

_I have been contacted by the coach of the HolyHead Harpies ! She wants to come for the tryouts and maybe join the team! I could be playing with Gwenog Jones ! Do you imagine that? Ron would just drop dead! As you can tell, I really, really want to go. The tryouts are in July, shortly after the end of school, and if I'm taken, the season's preparation would start as soon as the first of August... in Wales. And all team members are required to live onsite during the preparations, which lasts until the end of September. And then, well... the life of a professional athlete isn't the most quiet. I have no idea how to tell Harry, how he would react..._

_Maybe I'm worried for nothing, and this long-ass letter is worthless, but I can't help but think that he just wants to have some time for us, and I might just let him down, that our relationship might not survive me being gone another two months..._

_What do you think?_

_Love,_

_Ginny,"_

* * *

_"Luna my friend,_

_How are you doing? Still good, even with the exams so soon? I know I don't write often, you and I never did really (I'm a bad friend, I know.) but I'm getting worried about Ginny._

_She is not answering my letters, and this is starting to drive me insane. I was about to write to the Headmistress before I thought it might be far less stupid to ask you first._

_Is she alright? Did I do anything wrong?_

_I feel so silly writing and asking this, but I have to._

_Your friend,_

_Harry"_

* * *

_"Dear Harry,_

_You're a great friend, and you know it. However, you could maybe be a more trusting boyfriend. You know Ginny, if you had done anything wrong, she would have told you._

_She's fine, do not worry._

_We will see you soon._

_Luna Lovegood"._

* * *

_"Ginny,_

_What an amazing news ! I'm so happy for you, so proud of you! And you deserve nothing less ! It was so hard to hide my reaction, because Ron was just next to me when I opened your letter ! But your secret is safe. Please don't wait too long to share it, because it's really worth celebrations!_

_As for Harry, he'd better be nothing less than ecstatic for you! Otherwise I will teach him some good manners myself! But I don't worry too much about it, you know how he is. Always putting others before himself. But I do understand your doubts, this gentleman has never been very good with communication, and even less with romantic relationships. I would just advice to talk with him, maybe face to face if you have the opportunity. Shutting him out is just going to make things worse for sure, he will start to assume things. We know how he is..._

_I will not comment on my taste in men. Especially not with a girl who dated Corner and Dean Thomas ! But I still love you! *smile*_

_You can always write to me if you need anything._

_Keep me posted._

_Your friend,_

_Hermione"_

* * *

_"Harry my love,_

_Sorry for not answering earlier. There were many things happening, and I needed a bit of time to think them through._

_You are right, there is a last trip to Hogsmeade planned in three weeks, a bit before our exams start. I was not really considering going because I wanted to revise my lessons as much as possible, but you're right. Let's meet there! I need to see you as well; we'll have a lot to discuss._

_I know how it sounds, but no needs to get all wrapped-up. I'm not planning to break-up with you, very far from it. But we do have some topics to discuss, which I'd rather do with you, rather than by letters._

_So let's meet there in three weeks! At our usual spot! I really do miss you, even if all the work we have does its best to distract me from it. This date can't come soon enough!_

_On a side note, please don't involve Luna in this! I get why you wrote to her, and thanks Merlin she is way too nice to tease me about it, but I felt really awkward when she mentioned it. I guess I have my share of blame to bear for not answering you, tough._

_I need to get back to my notes now. McGonagall is relentless this year, I think she's having a hard time handling both her job as Professor and Headmistress, so it's twice more readings for us to do._

_I love you,_

_Ginny"_

Harry was sitting at his desk, reading the letter again and again. He was not really sure what to think. Ginny clearly hid things from him, but seemed ready to share it, so that was a good thing. But he could not put aside the fear. Trust in her, he kept reminding himself, trust in her, but his own words could barely reach his heart. He would have to wait three weeks...

They went by pretty fast, by his own account. His focus on his last two targets took most of his time, even if they were still unreachable for now. But at least, he had a couple of ideas he could try to follow-up on. He also spent some time with Ron and George, helping them out at the store before George would close for his two-weeks holidays with his now-girlfriend, and preparing his application for the Auror Training Program with Ron and the help of Arthur Weasley. He also finally took the time to talk with Sorenson, whomst plan for the future of the Law Enforcement Department finished to convince him. With Sorenson and Ron by his side, Harry would be able to change things for the better, make the country a better and safer place, or so he started to believe.

Just like he was doing right now by getting rid of the Death Eaters. One of the truths behind his decision was that, if push came to shove, he might be able to work from the inside to discard any doubts it people started looking in the wrong place about all those dead or missing criminals...

It became a bit more critical and plausible when he read the morning newspaper on one Tuesday morning.

**_Bloodbath in Azkaban: an Auror under Imperium?_ **

_According to a new report issued yesterday evening, the progress made in this sordid affair we reported a month ago unveiled some frightening events._

_Indeed, the murder weapon, a muggle pocket knife barely longer than a pinkie, was found to be smuggled by a Senior Auror, who went to meet the culprit just days before his rampage. The Auror, whom name is still unmentioned while the investigations are pending, seems to have no recollection of the events whatsoever._

_This revelation lead to the main theory that the member of the Law Enforcement have been subject to the Imperius Curse, the Obliviate, or more likely, both. This raises one terrifying question : who today would be bold enough to target an experienced Auror to do such bidding?_

_John Wolf, for the Daily Prophet._

Harry felt a weird sensation going through his spine, a cold sweat mixed with an irrational panic, but he managed to keep it in check. After all, he knew how the Ministry worked, or at least used to work. If they had any suspicions, he would have been brought in already. He had only two days left before his date with Ginny, and he had some plans to put in motion before the big day. A couple of letters here and there, and he was ready to go.

* * *

Hogsmeade was rather hot on this late spring day. The afternoon's sun was hitting on his head and he was already sweating, despite wearing only a light summer shirt. He knew Ginny had been there for a good part of the afternoon but the date was planned for the evening and he had to handle the last details of his plan. So when he walked in the Three Broomsticks Inn, he was not surprised by the wave of sound, cheers, laughs that crashed against him. Even if the Hog's Head had gain a much better reputation since it became known that it was the place of the D.A's creation, and that it had become of Harry and Neville's favorite pub to grab a drink together, Madam Rosmerta's place was the only one big enough to hold everyone, and to be honest, the only one offering what Harry wanted the most : proper rooms.

When Ginny saw him, the smile that brightened her face warmed his heart and killed all the fears that walked in with him. She kissed him without a word and her hands tightened behind his back, pulling him closer.

"Well, hello to you too my dear. I missed you."

Her kisses would not leave his lips alone for more than a minute, to a point where it actually worried him. Again. And it all vanished, again, when their friends finally joined. Neville, Hannah, Luna, even the young Johanna who, once again, had done an amazing job with her expert make-up skills on his girlfriend. After a couple of hours of laughs and good talks, when the tavern started to empty, Ginny pulled him to a table when they would finally have a bit of peace.

"So I guess this is finally the moment where you tell me what's been going on."

"Yeah" she sighed, "sorry about it. I guess you waited all afternoon..."

"All past three weeks, you mean" he laughed. "But yes I have. So spill the beans, love."

She took a deep breath, both her hands on the table, slightly sticking to the wood.

"I had three weeks to prepare my speech, even more, but I still don't know how to approach it, I'm pathetic."

Harry said nothing, just waited for her to resume.

" I didn't know what to do. After Hogwarts, I mean. Not a single bloody clue, just the idea of working at the Ministry like Percy or Dad made me sick. Then, a month ago, I got a contact from the Harpies... They wanted me to go for the tryouts, next month, after the exams."

"Ginny, that's amazing! You'd be playing with Gwenog Jones ! You have to go! I can't believe you didn't tell me earlier, that's incredible!"

"I'm so relieved you feel that way..." She smiled. "Because I already said yes. 10th of July, they're expecting me!"

Harry grabbed her hand with a grin to show his approval, until something troubled his mind.

"Wait... that's it? That's what you've been scared to tell me?"

She darkened and pulled her hand back.

"It's in Wales, Harry, and if I'm taken, I would have to live here with the team for preparation, for at least two months... "

"Ah. Well, I mean... It would be a very small price to pay for a chance like that! We can wait an extra month, not a problem!"

Her smile came back, but tainted by a small hint of sadness.

"Harry... Why have you not asked me to come and live with you?"

Potter was taken aback. It's not something he had expected, far from it. Being honest to himself, he hadn't thought about it. The whole situation felt like it would just last forever, no matter how silly it sounded. He had lived with Ron and Hermione for so long, at Hogwarts, on the run, in his own house... He never thought a fourth part would join the party, although it made complete sense, even more now that his friends were living the couple life.

"I... I..."

Fuck, what was he supposed to say now?

"Yes of course I would like you to join us at Grimmauld Place! I would like nothing more..."

"But...?" she pressed, so sure something else would come up.

"But I'm stupid. I just thought it was obvious, that it was a given, and never thought that I should ask you... I'm sorry."

It was basically the first lie that came to his mind, but it was good enough for Ginny to buy it. She chuckled.

"Stupid indeed. But sweet. But I have to ask, are you expecting us to live with Ron and Hermione? Long-term, I mean?"

"I dunno... maybe? I don't want to cast them out, so..."

Ginny frowned, visibly not quite happy with this answer.

"But I think they are currently talking about taking a place on their own!" Harry quickly added. "At least once Ron starts getting paid... Listen, Gin. I haven't given much thoughts. I just want you with me, I didn't really think about all the logistic behind it, I'm sorry. But I guess it doesn't really matter know, does it ? You're going to Wales anyway".

Ginny's face darkened, and her voice almost turned into a growl.

"You don't get to be mad at me for this..."

Harry raised his hands in surrender.

"Wo wo wo! Easy tiger, I didn't mean that as a bad thing! It's just a statement, and I'm behind you all the way! But the fact is you're going to Wales, at least for a couple of months. So you do that, and then we'll see. Maybe you'll be part of the team straight away and will want to keep living over there ! And maybe I'll join you!".

She remained silent, so he added:

"Look, I'm all set. I got the house, money, and the training program in September. So you do you. Go and make the team. And then you'll tell me what you want to do, and I'll be there."

She leaned forward and kissed him gently, before asking :

" But what do YOU want?"

"I want you. Right here right now."

She blushed just a bit, but smiled, knowing fully well what he meant.

"Harry, be serious!"

"Oh but I am. Come with me!"

He got up, chugged down his remaining Butterbeer in one go, and grabbed her hand, pulling her toward the stairs. She protested a bit, drawing the attention and an inquisitive look from Neville, but she ended up laughing, as Harry dragged her to the biggest room the second floor had to other. He opened the door, and pushed her on the bed, closing the door behind him.

"Harry! We can't!"

"Sure we can! After all, I rented the room until tomorrow..."

"Wha..."

She didn't get to finish, as Harry pressed his lips against hers, strongly, tackling her against the soft pillow, and already slipping his hand under her summer robe, slowly but surely reaching for her breasts, revealing her shorts and sport shirt underneath. She let him do for a bit, until she decided it was moving too slowly for her taste. She pushed him back, got up and took the robe off before his shirt, then grabbed his belt.

"Not so hesitant after all" he smiled.

"Shut up, you moron. You sure no one can come in?"

"I'm sure."

"Good. Take it off."

No arguments here, he thought, as his pants fell down on the floor. It wasn't the first time he was watching Ginny undressing, but hell after that many months it was just as good. Her bra was barely off when his lips were already around her nipples, pulling moans out of her throat. They got loader and loader as he started nipping at them with his teeth and his finger were doing a number on her, down there. She could think of much, but her right hand still found its way to his masculinity. Still standing, they kept touching each other until her legs started to give up. She took a step back, involuntarily, and it get him even more excited. He pushed her against the bricks, face to the wall, and she did not fight back. His right hand on her buttcheek, his left hand on her throat, both squeezing firmly, spreading just enough so he could enter her. Her gasp was quickly followed by a giggle of pleasure. His movement were quick and rough, but spaced, and she answered each and every one of them by pushing back against him, until her knees started give in. She moved to the side and let herself fall on the bed, face first. Harry lied against her, his chest against her back, his lips on her neck, his fingers through her hair until he grabbed it and pulled it roughly. He got into her again, and kept the same slow but violent pace.

"That's right" she whispered, almost to herself. "Take what you want... Take me..."

* * *

The sun was set for a good moment now. Ginny jumped out of the bed, panicked and still naked. She had dozed off against Harry's skin quite rapidly after they were done, and the reality had just caught up with her.

"Fuck! I need to go! McGonagall's gonna give me a lifetime of detention for this!"

"No you don't." Harry's voice was calm, settled. He had been awake for a while, just waiting for Ginny to wake up. The patience he had built while stalking his preys clearly changed the perception of time for him. He explained.

"I cleared everything with McGonagall. We'll spend the night here, and Madam Rosmerta should be bringing us dinner in just a few minutes."

"Wha..What? Really? How did you do that? She always said no exceptions! For anything!"

"Well, she will this time!"

The choice of term "will" instead of "did" really worried her at this moment, but before she could voice her concerns, a knock on the door made her jump. She rushed to the sheets to grab it and wrap it around her to hide her nudity. Harry laughed.

"Just a moment, Rosmerta! Thanks!"

He jumped in his trousers, and opened the door once Ginny was comfortably hidden.

"Aha, perfect" he smiled. " That smells like heaven. You'll need to teach me a bit, Madam!"

The young redhead did not understand what the tenant answered, but she forgot all about it when Harry turned back into the room, holding a trail with a feast on it, smelling indeed absolutely delicious. Her stomach growled like a raging demon, and her hunger took priority over everything else...

As the night went by, they laughed and drank a lot, had sex at least another couple of time before morning lights, and Ginny spent one of the best night in her life, despite the lack of sleep and her protests about having to work for her upcoming exams. The worst part was, without a doubt, when Harry had to drag her out of bed at 7.00am to bring her back to school, though she forgave him quickly when he brought a platter with hot toasts for breakfast.

"Mister Potter?" hailed Rosmerta as they were about the leave the inn. "Mister Potter, wait! I received a message from Headmistress McGonagall early this morning, for you."

She handed him the letter, which he opened with a frown. What did the old owl have to say? He grunted at the end of the short letter and took Ginny's hand, without a word.

"Wait! What is it about?" she asked, rushing after him. "What did she say?"

"Nothing. We just have to go to her office before your first class!"

Ginny paled but said nothing, too focus on not falling behind him or stumbling on a rock. It might be closer to summer, but the morning was still very fresh and the run was freezing her legs under her robe. She was getting worried about McGonagall for sure, but even more about the fact that Harry might have lied to her. This would surely ruin her memories of this amazing night, but the look on Harry's face dissuaded her from asking any question, at least for now. He seemed angry, and confused.

It hadn't occurred to Harry that he hadn't set foot inside the castle since the battle a year ago. If most of the traces were now erased, he took no time to notice it. His mind was set on Minerva McGonagall. Some kids whispered around him, as did some of Ginny's classmates, curious to understand what was happening as they saw their hero dragging her through the hallways at full speed. The only word Ginny ended up saying before sitting in front of her Headmistress was the password to her office.

"Good Morning, Miss Weasley. Mister Potter. It's nice to see you again within these walls".

Despite her cordial welcoming, her voice was cold as ice. While Ginny returned her salutation as politely as possible, Harry chose to simply nod, without opening his mouth, drawing a deep frown out of Minerva. She did not let the silence settle and kept on.

"Mister Potter, while I appreciate the fact that you warned me about your plans for Miss Weasley yesterday, you do understand that it was really short notice, too short in fact for me to decline and remind you that this was highly against the rules."

Ginerva's blood ran cold within her veins. So Harry had not completely lied, but he still went through without the official approval. She did not know what to think of it, especially as she was now dreading the consequences. Her boyfriend, however, still remained silent, but her mind could almost imagine the magical energy building around him alongside his anger.

"Now, what should I do with you?" asked the old teacher. " From your letter I understand that Miss Weasley was not aware of these plans, but she did know the rules nonetheless."

"You will do nothing, Minerva".

The tone of his voice was so sharp and unexpected that the young redhead almost jumped out of the leather seat, especially as those were the very first, he addressed to his former Head of House.

"I think you misunderstood my letter", Harry carried on. "This was not a request, this was a notification, out of courtesy and respect for you, our common past, and the position that you hold."

McGonagall's mouth stayed opened, half-way between shock and a severe comeback only she could make, but got stopped. He wasn't finished.

"So Ginny's going to join her friends for class, you and I can have a nice cup of tea and talk about the good old time before everything went to shit, if you wish, but that is all you will do about that topic."

"Mister Potter... Don't think that I do not know nor understand what you have been going through for the past years. But that does not put you above the rules."

Harry leaned forward, and articulated, his voice louder at each word until the last one was only a scream.

"Oh yes, it absolutely DOES ! You, all, owe me, us, EVERYTHING! "

He took a deep but short breath, like he had been running.

"We saved you! You were supposed to protect us! Help us! Not having us do your dirty work! Ron, Hermione and I had to live on the run for a goddamn year, because you could not do your FUCKING JOB! Ginny, Neville, kids, they were tortured within these very walls, and you did NOTHING! You just gave your fucking classes like it was nothing! We lost so much! So fucking much! I lost everything ! My parents! My Godfather! My childhood and my chances at a normal life! The only thing I really got out all of this shitshow is Ginny! Now if you think you can get in my way, I will slaughter you like... "

"Harry, No!" screamed Ginny.

He did indeed stop, but not because of her scream. He stopped because he realized at the last second that he was about to give the wrong name.

"..Voldemort."

Ginny was so shocked by the outburst of hate and anger that she was now standing a meter away from her chair. Minerva McGonagall, however, seemed weirdly calm. After a couple of second waiting for Harry to catch his breath, she gently answered :

"I'm sorry, Harry. I never thought you would feel that way. And I probably should have. As much as I should have done more to protect you, and everyone you love. Don't think that I do not blame myself for my weakness everyday. Ginny, my dear, would you mind leaving Mr Potter and I alone? We obviously have some matters to talk through, and I would not want to keep you off your last classes."

She hesitated, and looked a her boyfriend.

"You sure? Will you be alright?"

He sighed.

"Yes, I will be. Sorry for yelling, Ginny... I'm.. Please go, she's right. Don't miss your classes."

She summoned all her good will and smiled.

"Alright. At least stick around until lunch then."

"I will. See you later, Gin".

A long kiss, despite the silent presence of her Headmaster, and she was gone, heart still quite heavy.

"Is it really what you want, Harry?" finally asked McGonagall. "Privilege and recognition for what you did?"

He sighed, again. He felt so tired, suddenly.

"Of course not. You know me, Professor, I don't care about that... Sorry I took it out on you. All I want, for once, is just to be happy for a bit without anyone trying to ruin that or take it away from me. I'm just so tired of having to fight for every little scrap of happiness... I something feel like i just want to shred anyone in my way into pieces..."

Against his expectations, she actually smiled at him, one of her rare but so heartwarming smile.

" Trust me, Harry. I know this feeling very well. More than I'd like it to be true. But this the very difference between us and them, isn't it?"

Harry faked his best smiled.

"Yeah, I guess..."

* * *

_"Dear Hermione,_

_How are you doing? I miss you! And Ron, but just a little bit. Don't tell him!_

_I just wanted to thank you again for your help with my little doubt phase. As you said, talking with Harry was just the best solution, and he was nothing but supportive, so there will be no need to teach him your good manners._

_Also, I don't know if you were aware of it or not, but he had planned an amazing surprise at the Three Broomsticks! We had an amazing night!_

_However, the morning after... We had a run with McGonagall. She wanted to talk to us (and probably punish me) for our little escapade, and Harry just... exploded. I've never seen him like this! Especially toward someone like McGonagall! I mean, she's on our side, always has been, and he treated her like she was his mortal enemy... It was terrifying... Honestly, I have no idea how it ended up alright in the end... I hope this talk with her actually did him some good, because it really seems like he needed it._

_I don't know what to do of it, but perhaps you will..._

_Love,_

_Ginny,"_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N : Hi all ! It took some time to get this one one, mostly because of well deserved vacations =) Also, I tried at hand at something new (sex scene), hoping it's good enough. Tell me what you think. We're getting closer to the end, so stick around !


	15. The birds and the stone

Harry Potter used to dread those months of July. When he was a kid, it meant being stuck in the suffocating warmth of the cupboard, or the exhausting heat of the sun when he had to do the chores in the garden for his uncle, take care of the grass for his aunt, and just to be a damn victim to Dudley's moods as he was then at home all day long, every day.

Later on, it meant that it was time to leave his magical home and his friends to go back to this monstrous family, which he would have traded in a breath against Hagrid's three-headed, murdering dog Fluffy.

And the last year, well, for the first time it was a peaceful summer among friends... burdened with grief, pain and burials.

So, for the very first time of his life, this month of July could have been a really nice one, even with Ginny currently in Wales for her tryouts. He had his fingers crossed for her, from the bottom of his heart. In some way, it felt like she could pursue a career that he himself had dreamt of, years ago, but that he had unconsciously discarded after months of fighting and evil-facing. A career by procuration. However, it seems that the gods would not ever allow him to enjoy a peaceful July, as he was now extremely stressed by the Malfoys situation, much more than he had been for all his previous targets, even more than he had been when sending an Auror in Azkaban on his behalf.

"So, let's go over this one more time, Kreacher", he said to his house-elf.

The servant took a short breath, not like he was annoyed, but more tired, exhausted even. But he obeyed without complain.

"Kreacher will go to the Malfoy Manor. Kreacher will pretend that Harry Potter had cast him out and that he needs a new family to serve. Kreacher will pretend that, by their relation with the Noble House of Black, the House of Malfoy is the only one he is now bound to."

"Why were you cast out?"

"Kreacher will pretend that he was freed with a sock a punishment for insulting the guest Mrs Granger."

"What insult?"

"Mudblood."

"Good. Carry on."

Kreacher swallowed his saliva and smile slightly, proud of the compliment of his master. The respect he had for Harry Potter had grown exponentially, as did the quality of his service, as he noticed and appreciated the dedication of his new owner to go and hunt, and punish, the traitors who had betrayed his previous master and killed him: The Dark Lord's followers.

"Kreacher will serve the House of Malfoy, and search in secrecy the way to disable the magic protection of the gate."

"What if they ask you question about me?"

"Kreacher will pretend that Master Potter was an unworthy master. Kreacher will try to avoid other questions as much as possible, but if they do, Kreacher will answer honestly."

"What exceptions?"

"If the Malfoys ask Kreacher for information about the Mission, Kreacher will lie. Former Master Potter knows nothing of the death of the Dark Lords followers."

"What if they give you missions that involves me?"

"Kreacher will come straight to Master Potter to figure a solution together."

"Yes, good. Apart from this specific case, how do you contact me?"

"Kreacher will not. Kreacher has until the 28th of July to find the solution about the gate. When he does, he will simply leave a book on the bench across the street. If he does not, he will leave a newspaper."

"Do you know where to wait for me, after I entered the Manor?"

"Kreacher knows.

"Do you remember where our secret place is located as well?"

"Kreacher remembers."

Harry smiled. The plan sounded good. Good, but not perfect, as it relied on Kreacher firstly, but more importantly, on his loyalty. If he ever decided that the Malfoys were more deserving masters than him, then Harry could be in deep, deep troubles. That's why he concluded with a last question.

"And finally, why do you do it?"

Kreacher frowned.

"Because Master Potter orders it."

Harry shook his head, but still smiled.

"Wrong answer, Kreacher."

The elf's frown grew deeper, and a spark of hate and anger lightened his old eyes.

" To get revenge and justice for Master Regulus Black!" he growled.

"That's right, my friend. We need to be smart, careful, and disciplined. But they will get what's coming."

Of course, he had a certain number of tasks, contingency plans, and alibis to set up in motion on his side. He had ordered Kreacher to contact the house-elves of Hogwarts, in secret, to prepare an explanation for Kreacher's absence that, no doubt, Hermione would pick up. The story would tell that the old elf had fallen sick, and respectfully asked his understanding master if he could get healed among his people until he was well enough to work safely again. The elves of the school, among which Kreacher had earned a certain respect after leading them to battle, his master's medallion on the chest and a cleaver in his hand, agreed heartfully to help him as much as they could with an absolute secret. The name of Harry Potter should not, ever, be mentioned.

This would not resist a deeper investigation, for sure, which Hermione would be more than capable of doing, so it would be on him to stop her if needed. And even if he failed to that, he had prepared another lie to explain why Kreacher was absent and why he had lied in the first place. Of course, it was not something he wished for, far from it. Lying to cover up lies tend to dig holes that one cannot crawl out. But his missions required this kind of risks.

* * *

Ron was back at the shop with George. Now that the kids, and older teens, were out of school for the summer, there were, once again, swamped with clients, requests, and work.

"But is there even a slower time during the year? It's always packed! Christmas, Easter, Holidays, then Halloween, back to Christmas..." once complained the redhead, coming home exhausted and sweating from the summer heat.

"You should be amazed by what your brother achieved. Leaving school like that with nothing but an idea and a couple of Galleons, to turn it in such a success within a couple of year is incredible."

"I am! Don't get me wrong, I am, and George keeps blowing my mind with how well he handles it all without... well, as Fred is not here to enjoy the result of their work. I just wished I was not the one to work ten hours a day to keep him from drowning... Otherwise I'll drown myself, if nothing else in my own sweat!"

Hermione choked with a laugh.

"Gosh you're disgusting!"

"How's the recruitment coming along?" asked Harry, finally getting involved in the conversation. The iced tea in his glass was running dry.

"Good! That's the good part, I think we got ourselves two very good candidates. Picking the best one is gonna be a challenge."

The two brothers and the only other employee, Verity, agreed that the newcomer would have to be approved by everyone, not the majority, which sounded like a good plan. But now that the young woman had a different opinion than them, it turned into a sort of hair-puller. Ron still seemed to be confident into reaching an agreement soon.

"You really like this managerial involvement, it seems." Once noticed Hermione.

Her boyfriend had blushed a bit, unused as he was to feel confident in a position of power. He could not disagree, but firmly rejected the idea of giving up on an Auror career to keep working with his brother. A decision that he would then begin to regret and finally reverse, not so many years later.

But in the meantime, he seemed very much dedicated to prepare his entry into the Training Program, and dragged Harry along with him in his work, a sight that Hermione had never, ever seen in six years with them at Hogwarts. For some reasons, the past year, maybe the war, or the time with her in Australia, had given him a sense of dedication and seriousness that he never showed before, for anything other than Quidditch, but that she was finding particularly hot.

Those days were stressing, Harry watching by the window several times a day to check on the bench on the other side of the street, hoping for the sight of the book on the planks of brown-painted wood. A week, a week and a half, the deadline was coming closer. It wasn't easy to keep his thoughts and his concerns from his friends, even harder to make sure they would not notice him spending so much of his time looking through a damn window.

One night, however, and the heat of summer was keeping him from finding Morpheus' arms, a small *crack* noise jumped him out of the bed.

"Master Potter", said the voice of Kreacher, low and raspy, making sure that no one else would hear him.

Harry caught his breathe, allowed his scared and hard-beating heart to slow down a bit. According to the plan, there was only one single reason for Kreacher to be here, and it was not really good news. But it could also be because something went wrong with the plan, which would be even worse. The elf waited for his master to give permission to speak.

"What's going on, Kreacher? Did the Malfoys asked you to spy on me?"

The old servant gave a negative shook before answer.

"Kreacher is here to deliver a message on behalf of Lady Narcissa Malfoy."

Harry's heart almost sank in his chest. What the hell was going on? He waited.

"Lady Malfoy tasked Kreacher to deliver this message in secret. Neither Master Lucius nor Master Draco shall be aware of it."

He handed out a small scroll, like something she'd have written on a straying piece of paper, fallen on the floor. Harry took it out, but before opening it, he look Kreacher straight in the eyes.

"Kreacher, did you betray me?"

The elf first looked shocked, then angry.

"Never, Master Potter! Kreacher would never dare! Kreacher would rather punish himself to death before allowing these thoughts in his mind!"

"Then have you found the way for me to get inside the property without notice? Disable the gate wards?"

"Kreacher is close, Master. Kreacher just needs two more days, and he will be able to alter the gate's magic. The goblin wards are strong, master, but the elf magic is unknown to them and the wizard masters. Taking them down would take more time, but Kreacher can alter them so Master Potter himself can cross them without triggering the defenses."

Harry nodded. That was good. At least, if the old one was telling the truth. He opened the scroll and read:

"Potter,

You owe me. Testify for Draco. Help him. That's all I ask.

You owe me.

Please."

Harry smiled. He actually even laughed a bit. He should have seen it coming. As Arthur had explained, Lucius Malfoy had pulled every single string he had left to try to save his family and himself out of their mess. The only thing he had managed to achieve was an appeal hearing for his son to be allowed to leave home and resume a semblance of normal life, at the end of the summer. Harry had discarded every call, letter and solicitation he had received to participate in those hearings, trials, and judiciary processes. He did not want any part of that, he considered that he had already done more than his share of work. The others should be capable enough to handle the aftermaths. And he had felt the same about Draco Malfoy's hearing. Even more that, according to his plan, he should not even be alive to witness it.

He burnt the letter with the tip of his wand.

" Tell Lady Malfoy that I will consider it. That should be enough"

And added.

"And I expect to see the book on the bench before the end of the week. Don't let me down, Kreacher. We carry the will of Regulus, and we will not fail!"

With a deep nod and a bow, Kreacher approved, and disappear the same way he got in.

* * *

There it was. Oh yes, yes yes, it was. It was looking a bit weird indeed, left on its own under the sun. Like someone had forgotten it and should come back to pick it up, very soon. Its red cover shining under the evening sun. Harry hurried downstair, almost tripped. He to pick it up. Just to be sure.

It was, strange choice, a recent wizard edition of Shakespeare's masterpiece, Hamlet. Harry did not recall having read that one yet. He knew of it, of course, but nothing more. Surely, he would read it.

However, it would have to wait. He had more pressing matters at hand. Only seven days left before the 28th of July, and by Merlin he would be ready.

The thing that had jumped into his mind (just a memory, so old that it was barely even a dream) was actually so simple, so clear, it felt strange that it hadn't been a solution before.

He remembered Hermione. When they were twelve, in the abandoned girl's bathrooms. The potion that took months to brew, and that he could now just buy, legally or not. He remembered the cat hair.

That's why he had walked down to Diagon Alley, shopping for potions ingredients. Not that he would use them, it was just to hide the only ingredient that would be useful to him. The hair of a wolf's fur.

* * *

The night of the 28th was not a full moon. His disguise then made a little less sense, but he didn't really care. He even thought it would make it scarier.

As far as Hermione and Ron were concerned, Harry was on a trip to Godfric's Hollow. He claimed that he wanted to spent some time alone with his parents (or at least, their graves), and that he would be back the morning after. He tried to show his most serious, pained face so they would not insist nor ask too much questions, even though Hermione tried her best to convince him to let them come.

"No, seriously!" he had answered. "Please, I just need to be alone. Think some things through. You'll have the house for yourselves for the night, enjoy it !"

He had added a shameless wink that earned him a slap on the shoulder.

The best way to make his alibi check out was to live up to his word, until night fell. Then, anyone who would come close to the graveyard in the middle of the night would see some human-looking shape kneeling in front of the Potter's grave. Nothing but a good old illusion, but hopefully good enough.

Now it was almost midnight, and the night was rather chilly. The not-fullmoon was hidden behind clouds, and it didn't really feel like summer, when the previous weeks had been excruciatingly hot. Harry was out with only his t-shirt and was shivering under the wind. His shorts, voluntary much too large for him, would fall on his bare feet without the thin but extensible white string tied to the front. The grass under his feet was comforting, although unusual feeling, but he took a couple of seconds to appreciate it, moving his toes up and down against the earth.

He of course already knew how the transformation would go, that it would be more painful than usual. He had tried it already, three days prior, just to be sure. All he knew back then, in the end, was how Hermione looked in second years. Human body, covered with fur, and replaced with a giant cat head, her voice barely distorted. He needed to know if he could still walk. Speak. Use his hands. Hold his knife. So he had taken a drop, and made sure his plan would work.

* * *

He looked at the massive iron gates, a couple of hundreds of meters away, then at his vial of dark-brown, disgusting potion.

He took off his shirt, and hid it with his shoes and socks under the bush. He took the frozen, dead arm of Rookwood out of the bag, and placed it nearby, all ready to go. He didn't know what he would do with it later just yet. Maybe throw it in the sea, somewhere.

He opened the vial, took another long look and checked his knife and wand, carefully tucked in the long pockets of his short. God, how could he be so cold on a summer night? He chugged down the potion. Merlin, that was always so nasty...

The pain of Polyjuice transformation, usually, is bearable. Mostly discomforting, annoying, but not paralyzing. But this specific one, with a single wolf hair, was slightly different, as his nose and front face extended themselves to turn into a muzzle. The stretch feeling felt like all the bones of his cheeks were breaking, as if his nose were torn out until it fell. He had to bite his lips not to scream his pain out, until blood dripped when his teeth became slightly, just slightly, sharper.

Thankfully to all deities of any pantheons, this was over quick. The cold, just like the pain, was gone, as a thick, grey fur was covering his back, legs, neck, arms and face, his hips now filling the short to full. He looked at his hands, fingers bigger and larger, covered in a darker shade of wolven hair, but still human enough to get a good grip on the handle of his knife. His nails hadn't turned to claws, but they were longer, with a strange shade of ivory white. They almost scratched the skin of his palm then he closed them around the handle of the blade.

He bent over, cracking is spine and stretching his back muscle on the process. It felt good, really good. He could see why Sirius use to love turning into a dog, despite the flees. His last thought before marching toward the gates, the Death Eater's forearm firmly in hand, was for Hermione.

"Even when it's not on purpose, she's a bloody genius!"

The gates opened themselves without a sound. He tossed the arm in a bush, not far. He would get it on his way back.

* * *

Inside Malfoy's Manor, the life was grim, as it had been for some time now, but still a slightly better now that the house-elf was there to restore a bit of what used to be their lives. Lucius Malfoy was drinking some Firewhisky (one of the very last good bottle he had left), next to the chimney. He had hesitated to light a fire. It might be summer, but tonight was really cold! However, it was much, much harder to do without a wand, and he was reluctant to ask the servant to do these things he used to do with a simple wave. He gritted his teeth, barely able to contain the rage that always rose up with these thoughts. He was tired, too tired, and almost drunk. He should go to sleep, probably. Lost in his thoughts, he was wondering how they managed to survive such a year, having to clean, cook, and do all by themselves.

His wife, however, picked up on his sudden mood change. She should have been to bed already, as was Draco, but for some reason she didn't want to leaver her husband drinking alone, that night. Not again. With a wave of her hand, she signaled the servant creature to fill her glass one last time. Her gaze following the old elf, something in the corner of her eye caught her attention. A movement. A dark shade.

"Darling?" She wondered. "I think the front gates are opened. Someone is coming."

"That late? It's not possible", he mumbled.

But he got up nonetheless to look by the window. He paled. There was one possible way to open them without ringing the magical bell, and one way only. The Mark. He almost sobered up on the spot.

"Kreacher! Who is it?!" he yelled.

"Kreacher does not know, Master."

"The enchantment should have warned us! What happened?!"

"Kreacher does not know, Master."

"Then go and find out, useless piece of filth!"

Without promising himself half a dozen punishments, like their old elf would have done, the elf disappeared in a *pof*. Lucius turned back to the windows, trying to see who was coming, but he could not see anyone in the darkness. Just his gates, opened, filling him with dread. Seconds later, three heavy knocks hit the front door.

He froze. His wife looked at him, scared.

"Who is it?" she silently asked.

Lucius shook his head. He had no goddamn idea, but if the gates were opened with the Mark, it could not be good.

"Kreacher!" he yelled again. "Who is it?!"

No one answered, until three additional knocks, louder this time, resonated.

"Kreacher! Go open and let our guest in!"

He had tried to put as much insurance in his voice as possible. Just in case... But still no answers.

"Where the hell is that stupid bloody elf?!" he muttered, leaving the room to opened the door himself.

Facing the big, magnificently carved, wooden panels , Lucius extended his hand toward the knob when another knock made him jump.

"I'm coming!" he said. And opened.

He did not see anything coming. A massive hit in his chest threw him backward quicker than a hex, out of breath. His head hit the marbled floor just a bit, not enough to knock him out, but enough to be painful. He raised his head with a groaned, and screamed in terror when his brain registered what was in front of him.

A monster.

* * *

Harry let out a groan of hate. It felt so good, so good, to hear him scream like that. To see him so scared. The old blond man crawled back for a meter, until his back hit the bottom of the stairs. He let out a small plea:

"Greyback?"

Harry grinned, showed his teeth. He took the knife out of his pocket, the shard edge almost cutting the tissue on the way. Narcissa Malfoy appeared out of the entrance of the living room, on the left, a few steps away from her husband.

"Darling? AAAAH!"

The yell out of her mouth was primal, high pitched, visceral, out of pure fear and terror. Her hands covered her mouth. Harry made a step forward. Lucius tried to jump back on his feet to get in the way, extending his arm to protect a path to the stairs for her.

"Narcissa!" he yelled. "Take Draco and go! Take him and go! Run! I'll hold it off!"

She gave the monster a last terrified look, turn to her husband, and obeyed without a word, passing behind him, running up the stairs. Harry didn't mind anyway. She was not on his list.

He took another step, then another, and rushed forward. Despite the surprise, Lucius Malfoy tried a punch, large and ungracious, untrained and inefficient. Harry plunged underneath, his animal muscles itching to be put to use. It was easy. Instinctive. His knife went up, and slice through the skin, the chin, the tongue, the palate, all the up through the brain, all in a smooth and almost artistic way. Lucius Malfoy was dead before the momentum of his movement brought him to the floor.

Blood ran rampant on the floor, at impressive speed, soaking his furry feet. It made a sound like the leftover water out of a gardening hoe. He spared a last look at the penultimate name of his list before running upstairs. Afterall, his "werewolf" time was limited.

He took no time to admire the house, or be impressed by the size of it. By the painting on the walls, carvings on the doors, magical lights on the ceiling. He just followed the sounds of panicked cries and heavy footstep. Narcissa was slow, and she had nothing but a couple of seconds of head start. When he finally caught up to her, she was running toward the last door of the corridor. Draco's, by the look of it.

She looked back, terrified, and made a final, extra effort to escape Harry's touch on her shoulder. She crashed onto the door. She turned toward the wolf-headed creature; her arms spread wide to block the access to the bedroom.

"No!" She begged. "No!'

Behind her, the door shook, almost pushed her forward, but she hold on.

"Mother? Mother what's going on! Let me out! What's happening, let me out!"

It was the first time in a while that Harry heard Draco's voice. It felt weird, after a year or so. The panic in his voice didn't feel as good as his father's. In front of him, Narcissa was crying, tears running down her face as she was still begging, and using all of her force to keep her son from opening the door.

"Out of the way!" growled Harry, increasingly annoyed by her defiance.

"Not Draco! Please not Draco!"

"Stand aside, you silly woman. Stand aside now!"

Behind her, the door was shaking, Draco hitting harder and harder, begging for her to let it open.

"Not Draco, please no, take me, kill me instead!"

Harry froze for a second. Just one, silly, quick, eternal second.

"A name for a name. As you wish."

The voice out of his throat never sounded human to Draco's ears, through the wood. Harry's heart was not filled with hate and rage anymore, just a bit of regret, and gratitude. Afterall, she did save his life once. It was the least he could do to agree to her request, and make it as painless as possible for her. A thankful gesture. A simple stab through the heart.

When she fell on the floor, against the bedroom's entrance, it made it slightly easier for her son to force it open. The weight of her body was still enough to make it hard, he had to push with all his strength, hitting the panel with his shoulder, and when his efforts finally paid off, Narcissa Malfoy was dead, bloody, but peaceful, and the wolf monster he never got to see was already gone.

Walking almost aimlessly, grabbing Rookwood's arm out of the bush, he could hear Draco's cry and screams from the outside. He needed to hurry, as his old nemesis would surely bring law enforcement in a matter of minutes, the best way he could. He ran.

Kreacher was waiting for him, near his folded clothes, as they had planned. He had a very unusual look in his eyes. A look of hope.

"Is it done, Master?"

It was the first time Kreacher was asking something other than what his owner desired.

"Yes, my old friend. It is done. Regulus is avenged, and the ones responsible for his death in the afterlife. All single one of them."

His voice was rough, his throat hurting. A terrible, nasty grin lit up the elf's face.

"Please" added Harry. Take us to the lake. The secret place. I'm tired, I need to wait for the potion to wear off. Make sure to get all my clothes too. Leave nothing behind that could tie us to this place. Let's go."

With the same of *pof* both of them were gone, long before any Auror reached Malfoy's Manor.

* * *

The stones under his feet felt painful, but the smell of salty see water in the air was comforting. To think that this place had seen such a terrible trial two hears before, such a concentration of darkness. Now it was his safest hiding place. The fortress of his secret. He sat against the rock. He wanted to sleep, real bad. He felt tired, emptied. Almost done. The old elf waited next to him, for his transformation to start. Fifteen minutes were enough.

Dressed again, he was now really freezing, back in hairless human skin. He should have thought about it : preparing a coat or something. Just a t-shirt, at one in the fucking morning, in the middle of the sodding sea, was a shitty idea.

"Is the Master alright?" finally asked Kreacher.

"Yes I am, Kreacher. Just one last thing to do".

Without a warning, he plunged the blade into the elf's stomach. Almost at the exact same spot Dobby had been stabbed. Ironic. Kreacher try to speak, only just spat blood, but Harry understood the question in his eyes.

"This is your final tasks for me, Kreacher. You are the only one knowing my secrets, and I need you to take them with you to your grave. I brought you here so you'd rest with Master Regulus, for eternity."

Maybe. He didn't really know.

Kreacher tried to raised his hand, but it just fell down instead, as he expired.

As Harry dropped the body, and the arm, into the Inferi's lake, he thought about Narcissa. Her words had hit Harry, deep in his heart, as sharply as the very own knife he was still holding would have. He had heard those words before. It might have taken a second for them to hit their mark, to his shame, but those words changed everything inside his head, during that second. It had showed him the abyss toward which he was running head on, and it reminded him that their would always be a difference between Voldemort and him. Harry knew the power of love. He would not be dumb enough to forget it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we are, folks ! That was the penultimate episode ! I hope you liked it, and how it matched Voldy's attack on the Potter family at Godfric's Hollow, 19 years prior. Also i hope that you did not saw it coming too much ^^ and it you did, sorry. You're too bright for your own good.  
> Stick around for the epilogue though, it will be important and clear most of the remaining questions


	16. Epilogue

"Look who's there", whispered Ron, turning his chin toward the three shapes emerging out of mist of the Platform 9 3/4. The light's reflection on the blond hair was the first thing that he, or anybody, would see. Not hard then to guess who they belong to.

Draco Malfoy's gaze crossed Harry's, and he nodded. Like he acknowledged his existence, before turning back to his spawn and his beautiful, though tired-looking wife. Harry had not seen him much, this past years, but every time he did, the look on his face brought him back almost two decades back.

Of course, the murders of Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy had covered the front page of every newspapers for weeks. What shook Harry to his core was when, three days after that fateful evening, as he was half drunk in the middle of the surprise birthday party all his friend had planned for him, a couple of Aurors showed up to his doorstep for interrogation.

It took time to finally manage to calm down his heart and think rationally that, if they had anything against him, he would already be in a Ministry cell.

They were here because of Kreacher. Stupidly enough, Harry had not thought that leaving a Malfoy survivor would necessarily bring to light the fact that his own elf had been serving them for a month, then had completely disappeared. But this was why he had planned his alibis so carefully. "Just in case". He pretended that Kreacher was at Hogwarts, getting healed by his kind.

The unveiled truth was that he never went there and had decided to betray his master, or punish him, for some reason of his own, confirmed by what Draco Malfoy himself (or at least, thought he knew about the servant).

Harry Potter, looking more shocked than ever, as well as Hermione, was more than happy to go with this theory. Ronald, despite his more recent appreciation for the old elf, was pretending that he always knew it was coming, that the little bastard had never been trustworthy, and that he had betrayed Sirius too before. If he was dead, it had it coming, and if he was not, Ron wished he would be soon.

The investigations went on. Draco's testimony was pretty much useless. The only thing the investigators had were the painting's testimonies, and they all concord to the same thing. The Malfoy ancestors all claimed that the patriarch of the House had be slain by a beast. A monster.

Rumors started from there that Death Eaters might have created a new race of werewolves, using black magic, one that didn't need the full moon to transform. The Aurors, however, quickly dismissed those ideas and tried to tie it up with the Azkaban slaughter, until they started a manhunt for a rogue Death Eater that was murdering his former colleagues, despite the lack of leads. And even though it made Harry concerned, he was never be worried by the Aurors. Not a single second did it create any issue during his time at the Auror Training Program. With time, it just went on as a case that would never be solved, despite Draco's best efforts to keep from the Ministry giving up.

Ironically, crossing the last names off his list was probably the best thing that could happen in regard to Narcissa's request. Draco Malfoy's hearing got postponed for a couple of months, due to the on-going investigation. When it became clear that they would go nowhere, or at least that the Aurors were sure the son had nothing to do with it, the Ministry's officials allowed the course of the legal action to resume. And as the late Mrs Malfoy had asked him, Harry showed up. His speech was short, almost toneless, but he nevertheless stated that young Mr Malfoy had suffered enough in the light of the recent events, that he himself knew what it was like to become orphan, and that if Justice meant anything to the Wizarding World, then young man would be allowed to try and rebuild his life. His old enemy had looked at him with a mix of gratitude and disgust on his face, trying hard at the same time to stop tears from flowing. A few voices raised against the cause, mostly politicians keeping some grudges at Lucius for whatever shit he had pulled on them during his career, but in the end, the voice of Harry mattered more than anyone else. Draco Malfoy's house arrest was lifted and he was allowed, if he wished so, to go through his NEWTs at Hogwarts or from home. His funds were unblocked, free for him to use, although monitored by the Auror department for a duration of five years. Any contact with a Death Eater would earn him a quick trip straight to Azkaban. So would any proof that he hid information about his parent's murders.

In the end, as he walked out of court, he turned back a quick second to look in Harry's eye. As their gaze connected, he gave him a quick nod. The same nod he was giving him now, eighteen years later.

Brought back to the present, Harry tried to focus on his younger soon, still rambling about some Slytherin bullshit. As he knelt toward him, delivering the speech he had prepared for the occasion, his right hand dove into his jacket's pocket, hoping to feel the calming touch of the knife's handled.

It wasn't there, of course. He now only used it for cooking for his wife and children. After all, a blade is neither good nor evil, it's just what you used it for. Plus, with his career and position as an Auror, he had now more, and better tools at his disposal, as he had wished long ago when talking with the now-forgotten Sorenson.

He hugged his son tightly, inhaled the smell of his hair mix with the coal of the station, and allowed himself to smile of happiness. He knew he was going to miss him, as much as he had missed James before, but spending time with Ginny would be easier now with only one spawn remaining in the house. Lily could not go to Hogwarts soon enough, he thought with amusement.

His fingers intertwined with his wife, they watched the train leave the station in a cloud of smoke. His smile faded slightly and his green eyes took a darker shade. His jaws clenched a bit. Now that the kids were gone, there was still some work to be done.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N : And here we are my friends, the end of the track. I hope you enjoyed the journey, as well as the multiple mirror-effect i used in this fanfic (especially that last on :P). I'm personally quite happy about it, although i know I wished I had been better at portraying certain characters, like Ginny for instance. In any case, if you'd be so kind to leave a review on your way out, it would be much appreciated =) Feel free to have a look at my other fanfics!


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